Suffer in Silence
by ForeverYoung362
Summary: Genesis Howard is a 17-year-old girl from District 7 with a tough life. When she's reaped for the 71st Hunger Games with her 14-year-old brother Jaka, she's willing to die to allow him to go home. But will she be able to protect her younger brother from the arena, or will they both perish? And what of the handsome Jared from District 2? My first fanfic!
1. Chapter 1: Reaping Day

**Hey guys! I'm a new writer called ForeverYoung362 (obviously) and this is my first fanfiction. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think. I'll be updating soon, I already have chapter 2 written. So without further ado, enjoy! :)**

**P.S. I in no way own the Hunger Games, any characters or themes that you recognise are not mine. I only own my own characters. :)**

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Chapter 1 - Reaping Day

When I wake my dad has already left. I can tell because his quiet snores are not disturbing the otherwise quiet house. Leonides and Jaka, my two younger brothers, are both still sound asleep in the bed they share, a few feet away from the smaller, thinner one that I get to myself. Our father sleeps on the couch, and that is in even worse condition than my mattress.

I lie on my cold, uncomfortable mattress for a little while, the wind that's blowing in through the broken window chilling me through my thin and holey blanket. It's my stomach that motivates me to move.

I sit up and stretch, before immediately curling back into a ball at the suddenly frigid atmosphere. I can feel myself shivering in my thin tank top and holey track pants that I sleep in.

I swing my legs over the mattress and put my feet on the floor. Another shiver racks through my body as my bare feet make contact with the icy wooden floor.

Tiptoeing quietly, careful not to make any noise so as not to wake my brothers, I make my way to the tiny bathroom that we all share. We don't have any hot water, but I'm more than used to the cold showers. I'm in there for less than five minutes, before I turn off the water, quickly towel off and then pull on my working clothes; my warmest set of track pants that I own, paired with an old button-up flannelette shirt of Dad's, hard leather boots that are moulded to my feet, and black fingerless gloves that stop me, for the most part, from getting blisters from the wooden handle of the axe. They do nothing to stop the chill from freezing my fingers off, though.

I tie my long, unusually white-blonde hair up in a high ponytail before pulling on one of Jaka's black beanies – he won't mind – and glancing at the dusty, broken clock. If I leave now, I will be early and hopefully get paired with someone better than Jason Kix. I curl my lip at the thought of the nasty eighteen-year-old who just loves to make crude comments about me when my father's back is turned. I'd resisted the urge to throw my axe into his skull way too many times to count; but I'm sure no one else would mind if I got rid of the only one who made crude comments about the only female in the wood chopping team. At first, they had all been averse to a female swinging axes around all day and chopping up lumber, and it had taken almost a full year for them to realise that I am just as good, if not better, than a good majority of them. It helps that I am the daughter of one of the company's most esteemed workers.

As I pass through the hallway, axe slung over my shoulder, I happen to glance at the calendar that Leonides has stuck up after he'd made it at school. I stop in my tracks and my axe clatters to the ground, thankfully avoiding my feet, but I really couldn't've cared less as soon as I see the day that is today.

Reaping Day.

How could I have forgotten?

The one day off a year that I get, and yet the worst. Today, two children between the ages of twelve and eighteen will have their names called out, and then they'll be carted off to the Capitol, where they'd be prepped up and shown off to the world before being forced to kill each other in order to survive in the sick televised pageant that is the Hunger Games.

Even worse, it is my brother Leonides' first year eligible this year. It is Jaka's third year, at fourteen, and my second-last, at seventeen, but Leonides is the one I'm really worrying about now. If one of them is entered, what will I do? Will I volunteer, only to sacrifice myself to ensure that my brother makes it out? Or will that cause my father and my remaining brother too much pain, losing both me and Celine, our mother, and possibly the brother that is entered? Or would I remain silent and just hope that he could come home? But I know that if I did that, remained silent, then my brother's hopes of making it out were very slim. Leonides is only twelve, with no weapon or survival instinct at all, and Jaka is hardly any better. He has only been wielding axes for three months now, and that is nothing compared to the training that the Careers will have, seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds that have been training since before they could walk.

Before I can move, before I can even pick up my discarded weapon, Jaka walks out from the bedroom door and finds me standing there, staring horrified at the calendar.

"Genesis?" he asks. "Gen?"

I don't respond. I'm still staring at the little square on the calendar, the words _REAPING DAY_ clearly written there in my brother's neat hand, underlined and in capitals.

"Genesis," he says, "look at me."

I slowly turn away from the calendar and look at my brother. Both he and Leonides look nothing like me, in terms of the obvious features; while my white-blonde hair is elbow-length and silky, both his and Leonides' hair is a rusty bronze colour, wavy and desperately in need of a haircut; Jaka's is down to his ears, Leonides' down to his chin. We all have skin tanned from the sun, working outside every day, although naturally mine is pale and theirs is more of an olive tone. We all have different-coloured eyes; while mine are a dark, stormy grey, Jaka's are a bright, inviting blue. Leonides has one grey eye and the other is a bright blue. But if you look closely at our features, we have the same heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones and an elegant, almost aristocratic look to our features. Leonides has rather cute, prominent dimples on his cheeks while Jaka's are barely noticeable and I don't have any at all.

At this moment, Jaka's usually cheerful blue eyes are serious, boring into my grey ones with an intelligence that a fourteen-year-old should not possess. While Leonides is still painfully innocent, Jaka is mentally an adult. Perhaps not as old as I mentally am, but he comes close. But it's at times like this that he really shows this age on a face so young.

"It starts at ten," he says. "I'll wake Leonides. Dad will probably be home in an hour."

"I'll make breakfast," I say, "and pick out clothes for you and Leo."

Jaka nods and we go our separate ways; him back to the bedroom my whole family sleeps in to wake our youngest sibling and me to the tiny kitchen. Most of the cupboards are empty; I'd have to go to the market soon. That is, if…

I refuse to finish that thought. I concentrate hard on preparing a simple breakfast for my family. Bread and cheese for all of us, cold and hard with no flavourings. I wish, yet again, that we had more money so that I could at least make our meagre meals taste better. I hesitate, then quickly gobble mine down and head for the door. Leonides and Jaka come in just as I'm exiting.

"Breakfast," I mutter. "I'll go pick out your clothes."

"Well, good morning to you too, Gen," Leonides says as he sits down at the table with Jaka. I shoot a tired, slightly irritated look at my youngest brother, who manages to remain happy-go-lucky even today, before going back to our bedroom. I neaten up our beds before going to the closet that we all share. There's a special component, in the back, where I keep the Reaping clothes that we wear, the same every year. Leonides has to wear hand-me-downs from Jaka, and Jaka sometimes has to wear some of Dad's old clothes.

The dress I always wear to the Reaping is a knee-length, sleeveless light green dress that was once my mother's. It's easily the most extravagant thing we own. It's plain, with no lace or ruffles, the only differing from the plain fabric being a belt around my waist, the colour a dark forest green. I also have matching light green flats; both the dress and the shoes are a little small for me now, but we can't afford to buy another dress. It's only for a day, after all.

The sleeveless garment shows off the decidedly masculine muscles that I have gained through working with the men for three years. Of course it's only a part-time job, as I still have school, but I'm easily the toughest and strongest girl in my school. That doesn't mean I'm popular, quite the opposite actually, and I don't have much more than a handful of friends.

Using the dusty, cracked old mirror leaning against the wall I take my white-blonde hair out from its ponytail and let it hang loose. I run my brush through it, making it silky and smooth, but it annoys me, hanging so long without it being tied back. I only keep it this long because my father loves it; I can't really fathom why, but I keep it long for his sake. I wonder what to do with it for a moment before I shrug and keep it down. It looks fine the way it is.

I take my time choosing outfits for my brothers and my father. The shirt I would've given to Jaka to wear is obviously too small for him, and I remember him complaining about how tight it is, even last year. So I put that aside for Leonides and rummage through the closet for a shirt for Jaka.

I eventually settle for a light grey button-up shirt paired with the nicest pair of trousers for him. For Leonides I have decided on the dull green button-up Jaka wore last year, again with the nicest trousers he has. They don't have any dressy shoes, so they will just have to make do with the boots that they wear on a regular basis.

For my father I don't pick out an outfit that is as dressy as the ones I chose for my brothers. He isn't eligible anyway. I take out a short-sleeved button-up shirt and the faded jeans he wears to work when he isn't wearing the pair he probably has on now. He will just have to remain in boots as well.

When I go back to the kitchen Dad is home. The three males are sitting around the table silently, not talking. Dad is gripping Leonides' hand, who looks faintly green.

I pause in the doorway. "Your outfits are ready," I say softly.

They all turn to look at me in one motion. They all look extremely alike, the only difference being the eyes; Leonides with his odd two-coloured eyes, Jaka with the bright blue eyes of our mother, and Dad with the same stormy grey eyes like me. All three of them have the same rusty bronze hair, although in different styles. Dad's is cropped close to his scalp and it has flecks of grey in it. But although both of my brothers have Dad's general look, the delicate, almost haughty features they share with me come from our mother. I get my hair from my mother as well.

Dad is the first to rise.

"Come, Leonides, Jaka," he says in his soft-spoken voice. "Come and get dressed."

I stand to the side as they file past me to the bedroom, where I give them privacy to change. Jaka calls out when they're all changed and I take a step into the room. I look at the three of them.

Dad, in his short-sleeved black shirt; Jaka, in his faded grey one; and Leonides, in his dark green one. I sigh.

I stride over to Leonides and straighten his wonky collar. I do up his top button and run my fingers through his chin-length hair, neatening it up from its usual messy state and brushing it out of his eyes. I lean down and kiss him on the cheek and murmur, "You'll be fine," in his ear, quietly enough that only he can hear, before straightening up again and moving to Jaka. His hair, although shorter, is even more unkempt than Leonides'. His top button isn't done up either, although his collar is straight, and his shoelaces are untied.

I point to his untied shoes and raise my eyebrows. He sighs, bends down and ties them up. When he straightens again I move forward, do up his top button and neaten his hair. I smirk slightly at him before quickly leaning down and kissing him on the cheek before he can dodge. My smirk widens at his disgusted expression.

My gaze drifts over to Dad. He's smiling softly, and there's nothing wrong with his outfit. But still I go over to him, lean up to kiss his cheek, which is clean-shaven, before wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. Immediately he hugs me back, and it's only a few seconds before I feel my brothers join us.

I don't know how long we stand there. But it must've been a little while, as while we are still embracing we hear the bell in the square chime. All four of us stiffen and Leonides starts trembling.

"Let's go," Dad murmurs, and leads the way out. I take Jaka's right hand in my left and Leonides' left in my right. For once, neither of them pulls away. They are both grateful for my comfort, but even innocent Leonides knows it will do nothing to protect either of them.

Dad walks slightly in front of us as we walk to the square. The journey seems to take forever, although in reality it is really only a couple of minutes.

When we get to the square I see that we are early, but it's still a painfully long wait in line. I grip my brothers' hands tighter.


	2. Chapter 2: Death Sentence

Chapter 2 - Death Sentence 

Leonides' breathing has hitched and I can feel Jaka's hand trembling in mine. He's talking in low voices to his friend Jai, who has joined us in line, but their words are too low for me to make out. I just focus on gripping his sweaty hand in mine and providing wordless comfort for both him and Leonides.

When Leonides sees that we have to prick our finger before we can proceed into the square I feel him stiffen. His hand is so tight around mine that it hurts, but I don't try to loosen his grip. Leonides has always been queasy at the sight of blood, which is why we always make sure he is inside, away from all the windows, when the lumberjacks have to carry the dead, bloody, broken body of a fellow when a tree falls the wrong way and crushes one of the workers. It's a fear I always have, for myself and my father, but mostly for Jaka. He's inexperienced; it's only his first year working, after all. I always try to cover my youngest brother's eyes when the gorier, bloodier parts of the Games come on, but it doesn't stop him from hearing the screams, and often the cruel, sadistic laughter of the Careers when they make a kill.

I shudder slightly.

"Geni," he whispers. "They hurt us."

I swallow back what I wanted to say. _They certainly do._ "It doesn't hurt much," I assure him, trying to make my voice sound genuine and comforting. "Not any more than a paper cut."

He looks up at me with those wide, mismatched eyes and I resist the temptation to just pull him into my arms right then and there and take off, escape, never to be seen again, never to be eligible for the Hunger Games ever again.

But, of course, I can't. We'd be found by the Capitol and executed before we go a mile. And we couldn't leave Dad or Jaka behind, either.

I go first. I don't show any reaction of pain to the prick of the needle in my finger, willing myself to be strong for my brothers' sake. I clench my teeth and glare frostily at the white-clothed Peacekeeper who is in charge of signing everyone in. She ignores me.

Leonides lets out a little whimper when he is pricked, but otherwise doesn't make any show of pain. As soon as he is through he races over to me and into my arms. He is trembling, and is taking several deep breaths as though he is trying not to cry.

"It's fine," I murmur to him, tightening my grip around his trembling frame that suddenly looks so small, and weak, definitely not ready for the terror he is experiencing.

Jaka joins us a short while later. He joins in the hug. We stand there for as long as the crowd permits; I then, finally, regretfully let them go.

"It's time," I murmur to them both. "But it'll be over soon. Okay? We'll be fine." I lean down and kiss both of their cheeks, and for once neither of them protests or pulls away in disgust. A single tear leaks from Jaka's eye. He smiles a strained smile up at me before leaving, walking slowly through the crowd to the roped-off section of the square where the rest of the fourteen-year-old boys are nervously milling around.

I pull Leonides into one tight, final hug before saying, "You go and join in with the little kids okay? You'll be fine. Your name's only in there once. They're not gonna pick you." The odds are in his favour. They are not, however, in mine. I've lost count of how many times my name is in that big, intimidating glass bowl on the stage containing all the names of the eligible girls in the district. I never let Jaka or Leonides take out any tesserae. Ever.

"I love you, Genesis."

"I love you too, Leo." I smooth down his hair before gesturing for him to join his peers. He swallows nervously before lifting his chin and marching over to join the rest of the twelve-year-old boys.

I sigh before making my way to the front, where the seventeen-year-old girls are all waiting. I duck under the rope and lose myself in the crowd.

I've only ever really had two friends – close friends – one named Jocelyn, and the other named Devera. Jocelyn and I had been totally inseparable; we'd grown up right from the beginning, as our mothers had been best friends when they were kids. She was two years older than me, but that hadn't stopped us from being besties. We'd found Devera one day, being bullied and ridiculed by other girls, and we'd rescued her and Devera had shyly made her way into our friendship. But it had all changed six years ago, when thirteen-year-old Jocelyn's name had been pulled out of that glass bowl and she'd had to go to the Capitol.

She'd done surprisingly well, for a girl from the outlying districts. She'd made it to the final four, only ever killing one person, that person being a Career, but she'd been killed by the girl from District 2. The District 2 girl hadn't ended up winning; she'd made it to the final two, but she'd been killed by Finnick Odair, the sexy Capitol heartthrob from District 4.

Devera is a year younger than me, sixteen this year, but the age differences hadn't stopped any of us from being the best of friends. It had taken Devera and me a long time to recover from Jocelyn's death, but I was, and still am, immensely glad that I had Devera there to suffer alongside me, selfish as that may sound. I don't know if I would've coped if it hadn't been for Devera.

I glare up at our ridiculously-dressed escort, Stephanie Haavardsholm. This year she is sporting a bright, neon green dress with pristine white stockings, hot pink hair that is even straighter than mine, and the fringe is cut so straight it they probably used a ruler. Her skin is still a reasonably natural colour, painfully pale, but it looks as if she has had glitter ingrained into her skin, making her glitter all the time. Her eyes are wide, and an unnatural neon green colour. She beams down at us all, her lips a bright pink.

She's a sharp contrast next to District 7's six living victors; they all look bored, numb, or angry. Johanna Mason in particular looks furious, glaring especially at Stephanie, the Peacekeepers and the fancy Capitol cameras getting ready to film.

Next to Johanna, there are the five other victors; just one other female, Casey Montgomery. The rest are all males; Blight Black, Antonio Jensen, Kai O'Hara, and Silva Godwin. Johanna and Silva are the mentors this year.

I clench my hands into fists, concentrating on my breathing while I wait for it to start. It's another couple of minutes before it does.

"Welcome, welcome!" Stephanie's high-pitched, bell-like voice never fails to make me jump. It's just so sudden, and unnatural. The Capitol accent doesn't help. "To District 7's Reaping for the 71st Annual Hunger Games!"

The square is utterly silent as she pauses, but the silence doesn't last long.

"Let's all give a big hand to the mayor, Lenny Thorne!" the clapping for the mayor is strained, quiet. It doesn't last long.

I yet again focus on my breathing as I listen to the drone of the mayor's voice. He's reading out the Treaty of Treason; it's the same every year. I've almost memorised it by this point.

I'm dreading the moment when Mayor Thorne steps down and it's time for Stephanie to do her part, but of course it comes too quickly.

"As usual, ladies first!" the only sound in the entire square is that of her ridiculously large heels clacking across the stage to the large glass bowl containing the names of all the girls. My whole body is tight, tense, my stomach muscles clenched, making my breathing shallow and quick. My nails are digging into my palms so hard I'm sure they are going to draw blood soon.

I hold my breath as her elaborately manicured hand reaches into the bowl. She deliberates, taking her time, teasing us.

It seems like an eternity later that she pulls out a slip of paper.

She clacks back over to the microphone. She opens the slip of paper, peers at it for a second, and then she says brightly, "Genesis Howard!"

I swear, in that moment, that my heart stops beating. I don't let out the breath I'm holding. My clenched fists don't relax. My stomach muscles don't loosen, knowing that I'm safe for another year.

Because I'm not.

My name was just called, and I've been called up to compete in a pageant of death.

"Genesis Howard?" Stephanie asks again, and the girls in my section make a clear path to the aisle, easily singling me out. "There you are! Come on, sweetie, don't be shy. Come on up."

She's seen me now. I can't avoid it, can't go. Can't run. Can't escape. I'm destined to the same fate that my best friend suffered six long years ago.

It takes one of the girls prodding me in the back to make me move. I don't turn around and glare at the culprit, as I usually would have. I am totally numb.

I walk robotically up the aisle. It's a short walk, and yet again it seems to take forever. I'm dimly aware of noise; it sounds like someone's cries, desperate and grief-stricken, yelling something that sounded like my name, over and over. I ignore it.

Up on the stage Stephanie, as she does every year, hugs me, the new tribute, briefly, excitedly bouncing up and down. I'm unresponsive, as the majority of tributes are every year, and I stare out across the crowd, suddenly extremely aware of everything.

Leonides is staring up at me in shock, tears streaming down his young face. His mouth is slightly open in a horrified gape, his two mismatched eyes clearly displaying his grief. Jaka is being restrained by Jai; he's straining against his stronger friend's restraining arms, and he's trying to yell but Jai has one hand over his mouth, making them silent cries. He isn't crying, but he looks close to it. His bright blue eyes are shining with tears that he refuses to shed.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one!"

This just enrages Jaka further. He brings his leg up and attempts to kick his friend, and Jai winces, but refuses to let go. I'm suddenly grateful for Jai's presence, and the fact that he is physically stronger than my younger brother. Jaka would probably be shot on the spot by one of the Peacekeepers if he were to run out into the aisle, most likely screaming my name amidst profanities against the Capitol.

"Time for the boys!" Stephanie trots over to the other glass bowl. I hold my breath. It contains three slips of paper with Jaka's name on it, and one slip with Leonides' name on it. She doesn't dither this time. She reaches in, grabs a slip, and pulls her hand out again. She clacks back over to the microphone.

When she speaks I suddenly freeze. My muscles lock in place, and my minds goes blank. I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't feel. I can't hear.

Because the name that just passed through Stephanie Haavardsholm's lips, is Leonides Howard.


	3. Chapter 3: My Last Memories

**C'mon, guys, please just one review?**

Chapter 3

I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't feel. I can't hear. I'm utterly senseless. I'm in a haze, some inhumane feeling that I have never felt before is racking my body. I didn't feel this before, not when Jocelyn was selected for the Games; not even when she was killed in the Games.

"I volunteer!"

Relief washes over me. I can think again. I can breathe again. I can see again. I can feel again. I can hear again. The foggy haze has faded. I take a long lungful of air, but then I look down to see who has volunteered to take the place of my helpless twelve-year-old brother.

I stop mid-breath as my muscles clench again. My mouth falls open in horror.

It's Jaka.

I finally find my voice.

"Jaka!" I cry out. My voice comes out as a weak, strangled sound, as if I'm about to start crying, but my eyes are dry. I feel someone watching me intently, and not just one of those in the crowd.

I turn my head. I meet the hard brown eyes of the victor Johanna Mason. She is staring at me with a strange expression on her face.

I turn away from the woman who will soon become my mentor. Jaka is now up on the stage, his young face set into a hard mask. There is no trace of the single tear that he shed earlier.

"Both Howards," Stephanie muses. "Are you two related, by any chance?"

Jaka and I both turn and give her an identical glare.

"She's my sister," Jaka snaps. Stephanie flinches away from his harsh tone, giving him a hurt look before turning back to the microphone.

"Well, that's it for this year!" she says, sounding genuinely disappointed that she won't be sentencing more children to almost certain death for another year. "Make sure to cheer on your two tributes, brother and sister duo Genesis and Jaka Howard!" she claps her hands, as if to incite applause, but no one mimics her. They're all looking solemnly at us, or in some cases, looking at us in relief. Relief that they and their loved ones will be safe for another year. The eighteen-year-olds look the most relieved. They are free from the Hunger Games for the rest of their lives.

"Now, shake hands," Stephanie instructs.

Jaka and I turn towards each other. We stare into each other's eyes, our eyes conveying all the words we cannot say.

But instead of shaking hands, I ignore his outstretched hand and lurch forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. Jaka isn't even startled; he wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes me gently.

Our embrace is over too quickly. I take his hand, and he doesn't pull away as we are ushered into the Justice Building. We are forced to separate once inside the expensive building, however, and we look at each other for a fleeting moment before the doors are slammed shut.

I slowly turn and survey the room I've been shoved into. It's the most expensive, lushest room I have ever been in, but I take no notice of it. I sit down exactly where I am, a foot away from the door on the soft, comfy carpet.

I still haven't regained full thought. I stare blankly at the blood-red carpet I'm sitting on, my mind a numbly trying to comprehend everything. I wonder who my first visitor will be.

It's my family.

The door opens, and Dad and Leonides almost trip over me as they stumble in. Tears are streaming down Leonides' face, and Dad's eyes are glistening with unshed tears. He and Jaka both share the same trait of refusing to show weakness, at least as much as they can contain it. I'm the same, really, except in extreme moments like when both I and my brother are selected to enter into a pageant of death…

My father and my brother don't question my strange position. They sit down with me. Dad pulls me onto his lap, like I'm a little girl of barely five again, and begins softly stroking my hair. He doesn't speak, but he doesn't need to. He has always been a man of few words, and his silent comfort alone is enough.

Leonides doesn't speak, either. He simply cuddles up to us as well, his tears still silently falling down his face, and I can feel the wetness soaking into the shoulder of my dress and onto my arm. I don't care. I simply let Dad's long arms encircle us both and we just sit there, each drawing silent comfort from one another, for who knows how long.

It takes a little while for Leonides' tears to subside. When they do, he sniffles quietly and then Dad speaks.

"I love you, Genesis Jaylin Howard."

I snuggle closer into his chest. "I love you too, Daddy." I feel like I'm eleven again, and Dad is comforting me about Jocelyn's sentence. But this time it's my sentence.

I lift my head and look up at him. Leonides buries into my arms and I hold him as I speak.

"I'm not coming back, Dad," I say softly. "Jaka is."

Dad doesn't say anything. What can he say? How does one choose to either have his son or his daughter taken away and killed? Dad doesn't have favourites. He never has, and he never will. Instead, a single tear leaks out from his eye and travels down his clean-shaven, sun browned cheek. I've never seen my father cry before. He's the strongest man I know, and to see him cry, even just a single tear, is enough to make me break.

I don't cry. I can't let the public see my weakness. But inside, internally, my heart breaks in two. That single tear has caused my walls to come crashing down, and I break. But I don't show it. I never do. Inside I'm a wreck, a broken mess, but outside I'm still the strong Genesis that the public must see.

Before another word can be exchanged, the door opens and a Peacekeeper comes in, informing Dad and Leonides that their time is up. Dad hugs us both tight, and I kiss them both on the cheek before my father stands up, gently pulling Leonides with him, who is still clinging to me. Leonides grips my hand twice as hard as he did when we were coming to the Reaping, but I don't let go until Dad, who has lifted him up as easily as if he were five again, exits. He doesn't look back, but Leonides holds my gaze until the door is slammed shut again.

I'm still sitting, and I stare at the carpet again, waiting for my next guest. It will probably be Devera.

I guess right.

The door opens, and Devera's trembling frame hesitates in the doorway for a second.

"Genesis?" she asks softly.

I don't look up. Instead I whisper softly, "Devera…"

I hear her softly close the door and sit beside me. I feel her put her arm around me. She leans against me.

"I love you, you know that?" she says.

"I love you too, Dev," I murmur. "But…"

"Oh Gen…" she sighs. "Don't be like that."

I sigh.

She pulls me into a hug, and I wrap my arms around her, finding comfort in her familiarity.

"You'll be fine," she murmurs. "I know you will."

"No," I say back. "I'm not coming back. Jaka is."

She frowns as she pulls away. "He's saying that he's determined to make you come back."

"I'm not coming back. _Jaka is._" The words are almost a growl. I won't allow Jaka to die. I will die, but my little brother will return home, safe and sound.

Devera sighs again. She is quiet for a moment, before she says, a rueful half-smile on her face, "You know, Jai Edwards finds you attractive."

I look up at her, my eyebrow half-raised.

"I'm going into a death pageant with my brother and now is the time you decide to tell me that his best friend finds me attractive?" I laugh, feeling slightly ludicrous, and I hear Devera giggle. "You are one of a kind, Devera."

"And I will bet my buttons that he will be your next visitor," she says.

"He's kind of cute, you know."

"You two would be cute together."

"Devera, I just said that he's marginally cute. I didn't say anything about _liking_ him. I mean, it's…it's weird. He's, like, three years younger than me."

"Age is just a number," she says, waving a hand dismissively.

Our moment of teenage girl frivolity is interrupted when the door opens and a Peacekeeper instructs Devera to leave, and suddenly everything comes crashing down on me again. Devera had managed to distract me for a few short minutes, but at the sight of the stern white-clothed Peacekeeper, I'm suddenly solemn again.

She looks up at me with her wide green eyes. Hers are natural, and utterly beautiful, totally unlike Stephanie's horrible, fake neon ones.

"I love you," she says, pulling me into a hug.

"I love you too, Dev," I murmur. "See you on the other side."

Her expression as she leaves is one of someone looking like they are going to their death. I wonder if it's the expression that is on my face.

I wonder what will happen to Devera now. Now that Jocelyn is gone, and I am about to go. We were always her protectors, the best friends, the big sisters almost, that Devera always looked up to and admired. When Jocelyn died it was bad enough. With me dead…

I'm surprised when the door opens again, and even more surprised to find Jai Edwards, Jaka's fourteen-year-old best friend, standing there, the one who Devera had distracted me with. I stare at him rather bemusedly. Why would Jai want to say goodbye to me?

He wordlessly comes and sits next to me on the red carpet. He doesn't say anything for a long while, and I'm afraid our time will be up before he can say anything and I'll be wondering about this forever.

But eventually he turns so his whole body is facing mine. I automatically turn as well so I am facing him too.

He grips my hands in his, looking at me intently with his big brown eyes. He flicks his brown bangs out of his eyes before he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but abruptly closes it. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out something glittering. I look at it for a moment, frowning, before I realise that it is a bracelet. A simple one, with a thin silver chain and a charm hanging from it. The charm is a small tree. It would reminds me of home when in the arena. My token.

Surprisingly, I feel my eyes fill with tears as he gently takes my wrist and secures the bracelet. Once it's secured I hold it up to the light, watching as the little charm, carved out of wood, looks in the light. It's beautiful, and the perfect thing to remind me of home.

I surprise myself by leaning forward and wrapping my arms around the boy's neck. He hesitates for a moment before hugging me back.

The awkward embrace is over almost as soon as it begins. I pull away, and Jai starts to speak softly. "Jaka was going to give it to you for your birthday," he says, not looking up at my face. "He wanted me to give it to you."

"Oh," I say, "convenient."

He looks up at me with an eyebrow raised. "Convenient," he snorts, shaking his head before standing up. I look up at him and meet his gaze.

"Just out of curiosity," he says. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

He grins ruefully, biting his lip. His teeth are very white, almost as white as those you see on television on people like Caesar Flickerman.

"I didn't make it to the couch," I say, and he chuckles quietly. I mimic him, and then look down at the red carpet again. It's so awkward, I can practically feel it, and I think he can, too. Eventually he speaks again.

"Good luck in the arena," he whispers. "To you and Jaka both."

The door opens again, and the Peacekeeper for the third time instructs my visitor to leave. Jai looks at me and gives me an awkward wave, which I return, just as awkwardly, before he ducks out of the room.

Instead of shutting the door, the Peacekeeper gestures for me to stand up, which I do so. I follow him out into the hallway, where we meet with Stephanie and Jaka. Jaka immediately reaches for my hand when he sees me, and I do the same.

The whole district is there to see us off as we get out of the car at the train station, but I look determinedly down at the ground, gripping Jaka's hand tightly in mine, refusing to make eye contact with any of the crowd. We're surrounded by Peacekeepers anyway.

But, I can't help looking back as I step onto the rich Capitol train. My grey eyes meet the mismatched ones of Leonides.

_I'm sorry,_ I mouth to him before I turn away and step onto the train, feeling the tears about ready to flow over.


	4. Chapter 4: The Journey to the Capitol

Chapter 4 – The Journey to the Capitol

I sit in my room on the train. It's huge, almost twice as big as my whole house back home. The bed is big and inviting, the sheets soft, the pillows fluffy and comfortable. The carpet is softer, plusher than that of the carpet in the Justice Building, but it's a soft lavender instead of a bright red this time. My dresser is twice as big as the closet back home where my whole family stores our clothes, and it's filled with stylish, comfortable clothes made in the Capitol by designer labels, all of them fitting me perfectly. The bathroom is an ensuite, the tiled walls jewel-encrusted, with a huge shower with several different knobs and buttons. I'd had a shower before, pressing a various array of buttons, and coming out squeaky clean smelling like a mixture of strawberries, freesia flowers, peaches and the forest after rain. It has taken me a full half hour just to identify those smells, but I smell so good I can't stop sniffing myself. I want to figure out which of the many buttons I pressed makes me smell like the forest after rain; it reminds me of home, and I have always loved that smell.

I'm dressed in a deep blue knee-length skirt and a comfortable, long-sleeved white shirt that is so soft I can't stop rubbing the soft material, however absently. My feet, which were previously quite cold, are enclosed in soft, sapphire-encrusted slippers, and my long, white-blonde hair is done in a side-braid over my shoulder. I sit cross-legged in front of the huge mirror, staring at my reflection. I hardly look like me. I've spent almost two hours locked up in my room, forcing myself to do a lot about my appearance to distract myself from the sad emotion I feel. I even put a little bit of makeup on, and now as I stare at myself I barely recognise myself. And now that I've stopped distracting myself with choosing clothes and pressing shower buttons and braiding hair, I finally have time to stop and wallow in my misery. I know that I should probably go and see Jaka, as he's probably worried about me if he isn't asleep or crying. I have just spent two hours locked up in my room, after all, refusing to come out. It's probably lunchtime by now.

As if on cue, Stephanie raps on my door, informing me cheerfully that it's time to come out, as it's lunchtime. When I don't respond immediately she tries the door and then knocks again, calling my name again.

"I'm coming," I call weakly, standing up. A shiver runs through my body. I take a loose white jumper from the dresser before unlocking my door and making my way down the fancy train hallway to the dining cart. I was given a brief tour when I first got here, and I am thankfully blessed with photographic memory, so I have no trouble finding my way.

Jaka is already there, along with Stephanie, Johanna Mason and Silva Godwin. The latter two are our mentors. Stephanie is prattling on to Johanna about some brand of shoes, but the 68th Hunger Games victor is ignoring her, moodily stabbing at her food.

I hesitate in the doorway. Johanna is the first to look up.

"So here's my girl," she says, eyeing me up and down critically. I hover in the doorway, unsure of really what to do or say. "Your name's Jennifer, right?"

"Genesis," I correct her. "Genesis Howard."

"Oops. Sorry. My bad," she says. She doesn't sound very sorry.

I frown at her before slowly making my way over to the table and taking a seat next to Jaka. He hasn't looked up; he's pushing his food around on his plate with a fork. His eyes are red and puffy, as if he's been crying. I won't be surprised if he has.

"Jaka?" I ask softly.

He looks up at me. His blue eyes are dark, and dulled by his sadness.

"You should eat." Silva finally speaks up. I realise that I've never actually heard his voice before. "Put on some weight before the arena."

I realise he's right, and I guess Jaka does as well, as he forces a piece of toast into his mouth, and I fill my plate up with pancakes, a delicacy I have had all of once.

They taste heavenly, but really the pancakes are the last thing on my mind.

"So, I guess you already know, but even if you don't, I'm Johanna Mason, Genesis' mentor," Johanna says.

"And I'm Silva. Jaka's mentor," Silva says softly.

"One of you is coming home this year," Johanna says.

"It's going to be Jaka," I say at the same time he says, "It's going to be Genesis."

We both look at each other and frown.

"I'm not letting you die, Jaka," I say. "You're my little brother and I love you more than life. I'll die a million times over before I let you."

"No," he says, "everyone at this table knows that I have absolutely no chance at winning. I don't want to anyway, I can't live without my big sister. But everyone at this table knows that you're more than capable of taking those tributes down. You're going home, Genesis."

I open my mouth to contradict him but Johanna cuts in. "Alright, both of you, be quiet," she says. We fall silent. "I'll be trying to bring Genesis home, and Silva'll be trying to bring Jaka home. Capiche?"

We stay silent. We're both too intimidated by Johanna to say anything.

"We've got this train ride all planned out," Silva says. "We have six hours – well, four now – and most of that time you guys will be spending with either Johanna or I. We don't wait when it comes to strategy in District 7."

Jaka and I nod wordlessly.

"It'll be separate, of course," Johanna says.

Jaka shakes his head at the same time I do.

"We're not leaving each other the entirety of these Games," I say. "We either learn together or not at all."

Johanna gives me a frustrated look and Silva sighs.

"Fine," he says.

Half an hour later the four of us are seated in the television room, Silva sitting stiff-backed on one of the armchairs and Johanna sprawled over the other. I'm sitting on the couch, and Jaka's lying down with his head in my lap. I stroke his rust-coloured hair absently.

"What strengths do you guys have?" Johanna asks. "Know any weapons, survival skills…?"

"I've worked as a woodcutter since I was fourteen," I say. "I'm good with an axe and reasonable with a knife. I'm strong and fast and can climb trees but I don't know anything about survival."

"I've only been working with axes for a couple of months," Jaka whispers. "I'm fast, but that's all."

"Right," Johanna says. "So, you guys are gonna stay together, presumably." We nod. "You're both gonna have to either separate or kill each other at one point."

There it is, said bluntly and clearly. We will either have to eventually separate, or kill each other. I shudder at the thought of even going near Jaka with a weapon, let alone hurting him and killing him. I feel the same about separating, leaving him free to be killed by the other tributes without my protection.

"When the time comes for training, I want you two to stick together. But Genesis, don't show your skills. It'll only make you a target for the Careers. Both of you, stay totally learning survival skills for the first two days. Don't even go near the weapons. The third day practise with weapons. Genesis, you can use axes, right? That's good. Avoid them completely. Practise knives a bit, but try out some common weapons that you don't really know. Swords, maybe, spears perhaps. Jaka, focus on the basics. If you reckon you're a natural with the axes, go to them for a short time but not long enough for people to see exactly how good you are. Try a sword; I reckon you've got a good figure for a sword. Knives too, maybe. But remember: survival the first two days, weapons the third. You can separate when practising weapons if you want."

"What about alliances?" I ask. "We could recruit others, maybe, you know…"

Johanna is shaking her head before I've finished the sentence. "I know you two won't stab each other, but the other tributes have no reason to be loyal to you. They'll stab you in the night while you're sleeping when your usefulness is up, unless you do it first. And a pack is harder to hide than a pair."

"But," Silva says, "I won my Games by doing that. That's a strategy you could use, although it's possibly the worst, the weakest, the lowest strategy there is. You make alliances and then stab them in their sleep when they have no chance of fighting back." His green eyes are cold and hard. He's in Hunger Games mode. This is no time to be feeling sympathy.

"That's right, you could, but it's totally ruthless," Johanna says. "But I still say still together, don't show your skills, get sponsors in different ways."

"How?" Jaka asks.

"Dude. You two are about the two best-looking tributes I've ever had to mentor. Genesis, you'll get a huge amount of sponsors if you go for sexy and flirty. The dumb blonde. It works, the Capitolites eat it up. We'll be beating off sponsors with a stick."

"But that's not how I want to be remembered," I say. "I don't want to be seen as some dumb blonde who sleeps her way to the top."

"It'll get you sponsors. If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

I glare at her, but don't say anything. I can see her logic, even if I don't want to admit it.

"Jaka, you can be the cute and likeable guy with a sob story. Obviously, the sob story is being in here with your sister."

"You want to show the bond you two have," Silva speaks up. "Jaka, you be cute and likeable, obviously, but show a serious side when you speak about your sister. You too, Genesis."

I swallow and nod, turning my head away. The four of us sit in silence for a moment and, of course, Stephanie is the one to ruin it.

"It's time to watch the Reaping recaps!" she says, waddling into the room and turning on the huge flat-screen TV.

The recaps are just starting. I continue to absently stroke Jaka's hair as Caesar Flickerman's face plays across the screen. This year his hair and eyebrows are a shocking yellow, a sharp contrast to his tanned skin.

District 1's reaping starts a few moments later. I take note of all the Careers; a tall, slim girl with blonde curls from District 1 called Lorelei Williamson; a tall, broad-chested blonde called Riley Jamison as her partner; a small, rather lethal-looking girl with short spiky dark hair from District 2 called Astraea Faye, and a huge, bronze-haired killing machine called Jared Waters as her partner. The girl from District 3, Melina or Melissa or something, looks only around thirteen or fourteen. She's a bloodbath, I'd reckon. Her partner looks more promising, Octavian Welloby, if only slightly. He looks a bit older, with large glasses and painfully pale skin. His dark hair is short and spikes up in every direction as if he just woke up. The girl from District 4 is absolutely beautiful; wavy mahogany hair down to her waist with blonde streaks; large green eyes; perfectly tanned skin, and on top of that she looks absolutely lethal. Her name is Telia Westbourne. Her partner, Taylor Beckett, has an arrogant smirk on his pretty face. He's almost as big as Jared, although not quite, and his dirty-blonde hair is chin-length, the same length as Leonides'. He looks more excited to be partnered with Telia than he is to be going into the Games. The girl from five, Vera Van der Woodsen, looks about my age, if maybe a little younger. She's glaring up at their escort with so much venom that if looks could kill, the escort would have been dead a hundred times over. Her partner doesn't look that interesting, the same with both from District 6. I estimate that all four of them will be bloodbath victims, and then I suddenly feel sick. Who am I to be cruelly betting on these children's lives like this? That's what those in the Capitol do. And I will _not_ become like them.

Our reaping is next. I swallow as I watch my name being called once, twice; and then finally my white-blonde figure walks slowly up to the stage. I'm pleased to see that my expression is blank, not displaying any of the emotions that I was feeling at that time. The camera does a close-up of my face and the commentator says, "It looks like Telia Westbourne, the beauty from District 4, may have some model competition!" a picture of the beautiful girl from the fishing district comes up next to my face and I glare at the screen. They're really talking about looks _now?_

Telia's face disappears and then our reaping is continued. I'm glad it's no longer a close-up on my face when Leonides' name is called. In fact the camera isn't showing my face at all. It's focused on Stephanie, and then Leonides as he's singled out.

Jaka's face is on the screen next, his youthful features arranged into a hard mask as he volunteers for his younger brother. No one could miss the resemblance between them. They are unmistakeably brothers, as the commentator says.

"Genesis Howard, Leonides Howard, Jaka Howard…I wonder if they're all related?" the commentator wonders, and his question is answered a moment later when Stephanie asks whether we're related, and Jaka snaps out that I am his sister. My hand involuntary tightens into a fist, and I only relax when I realise that I'm clutching at Jaka's rusty bronze waves.

It goes on to show the District 8 reapings, and I can't be gladder that our turn is over. I don't pay attention to the rest of the reapings. I catch a handful of names, but that's all…Ariadne Castellan…Calista Wolfe…Lyric Maddox…Spring Wainwright…who on earth names their child _Spring?_

As soon as it's over I stand up, forgetting that Jaka was on my lap. He grumbled and glares at me as he rights himself.

"I'm going to my room," I announce.

No one pays me any mind.

* * *

**Thanks so much to CoolGIRL2012 and seanthesheep356 who were my first two reviewers! Thanks so much! Thanks also to the people who've favourited and followed the story. :) **


	5. Chapter 5: The Tribute Parade

Chapter 5 – The Tribute Parade

"Finally, we have something to work with!"

My cheeks are flaming red as I stand stark naked in front of three ridiculously over-the-top Capitolites who are my prep team. Ender is a silent brooding man with a heavy jaw, black green-streaked hair styled up into a quiff and long, glittery eyelashes that look like antennae protruding from his golden eyelids, the colour of which match his eyes. He hasn't said a word since I met him. Perrie, a small excitable woman with short spiky multi-coloured hair, skin with such a heavy fake tan it's almost orange, green tattoos swirling all over her body and pink eyes that look too large for her face has chatted almost non-stop since she came in, hardly letting Kim, the last member of my prep team, get a word in edgewise.

Kim isn't as outrageous as Perrie. She has a quiet, soft-spoken voice and her skin and hair are a natural colour; olive skin and shoulder-length brown hair that is as straight as mine. Her eyes are narrow, and an unnatural bright blue colour, her eyelashes are pink and her eyebrows are made of jewels, but I think I like her the most out of my prep team. She did, after all, manage to convince Perrie not to draw a tattoo of a tree on my face, as she wanted to. The chatty woman was upset, but put down her tattoo stencil anyway.

They apparently like what they see; healthy skin, even, aristocratic features and long white-blonde hair, a colour that is rare for someone to naturally have, apparently. They don't like my dull grey eyes, but I refuse to let them put in contacts. I'm also apparently too thin, but being from the poorer part of my district, being thin is inevitable.

"At least you're not pale," Perrie had said. "I'm so glad I don't have District 12. They're so pale and thin, they're almost not human!" I'd broken into a violent coughing fit at that, trying to disguise my disgust at her. If anyone in Panem is not completely human, then it is definitely those in the Capitol. I couldn't believe that she had just said that about the tributes from District 12, who almost every time died. In 70 years of Hunger Games, they've only had two victors, one of which is dead. I stick closer to Kim after that.

I don't know how long I'm subjected to their treatment. Whether it is five minutes or five hours, I'm still glad either way when it's over and I finally get to meet my stylist.

My stylist's name is Scarlett, and she apparently took her name to heart. She's wearing a figure-hugging short red dress, ridiculously large red heels, her long blonde curls have red streaks in them, her lips are a bright red, her nails are painted red, and, to top it off, her eyes are red as well. It looks rather creepy, but I suppose apart from the streaks and the eyes she isn't really that Capitol at all. She doesn't look as if she's had any plastic surgery, although I can't actually tell.

She smiles at me when she sees me. It's more of a creepy, predator sort of smile than a friendly one, though.

"Genesis," she says, stepping forward and embracing me. I'm too surprised to respond. She gives Ender, Perrie and Kim a meaningful glance and they scurry away, closing the door behind them.

It's only then that I notice a large, bulging bag clutched in Scarlett's carefully-manicured hand. It's probably a tree costume.

"This is my first year working for District 7," she says. "I hope to make more of an impression than the other stylists did." She smiles, and I smile uneasily back. "I want to show you off," she says. "You're something, Genesis, you really are, and so is your brother. Perhaps you could bring some glory back to District 7. Johanna Mason's old news now. It's time for Genesis Howard to emerge."

I smile slightly at her confidence in me, even though I have no intention of getting out of that arena alive. It'll be Jaka who's bringing glory back to District 7; not me.

"As a matter of fact," Scarlett says, chuckling, "you'll look more like Adam and Eve than trees." My eyes widen and she laughs. "Don't worry, you'll be more covered than what the Capitol has depicted them of wearing." I sigh in relief, and she smirks. "Now, stay still. And close your eyes."

I do as she says, closing my eyes and going as still as a statue. I hardly even dare to breathe as I feel her delicate hands putting my outfit on. She occasionally tells me to lift my arms, but for the most part I'm as motionless as the huge oak trees back home in the forest in District 7.

I'm not really sure how long Scarlett spends on my outfit. An hour or so, I'm not counting. But finally she spins me in the direction I assume is the mirror and tells me to open my eyes.

I oblige, and find myself staring at a glorified, more modest version of Eve from the Capitol's biblical legends. My mouth drops open and my eyebrows raise slightly, impressed.

The skirt is short, but smooth against my skin and patterned like a wooden tree trunk. There's a band of green leaves across my chest, and I briefly wonder if they're real leaves. I also have a sash of leaves going diagonally across my torso, resting on my right shoulder and left hip. I'm wearing brown sandals with leaves intertwined through the straps. But what really gets me is my hair.

It's been braided into an elegant side-plait resting over my right shoulder, and daisies are intermittently stuck into the plait. A crown of colourful flowers rests on my head. I reach up a hand to touch my hair. It feels unnatural; smooth, silky, beautiful. Enviable. My hair never looked like this back in District 7. Never this beautiful. Never this…perfect.

"What do you think?" Scarlett asks, coming to stand beside me in front of the mirror.

"It's…" I love it. It's so beautiful, so _me_, like the jungle girl that I am, that I love it more than I would if I were a fancy District 1 tribute with an even fancier costume. "I love it," I say. Scarlett beams.

"Well, it's time to go," she says. "Shall we go and see what your brother looks like?"

I nod, and we leave the room.

We meet Jaka out in the hallway. He's dressed much in the same vein as me; his ankle-length trousers are the same pattern as my skirt, a woody tree trunk. He's barefoot and shirtless, but he has the same leafy sash across his torso that I do. I snicker when I see that he's wearing a flower crown as well.

"Nice flowers," I say, and he scowls. "Very manly." He scowls deeper.

Johanna and Silva appear at the end of the hallway. Silva gives us a small smile while Johanna exclaims loudly, "Why do you guys get the good stylists? I got dressed like a tree for my Games!"

"Let's go," Stephanie says as she appears, not even glancing at our outfits as she hurries towards the elevator.

We all cram into the glass-walled elevator. It takes a very short amount of time for us to reach the ground floor, where our chariots are waiting, ready to carry us on a loop around the City Circle so the citizens can finally get a proper look at us.

The chariot this year is the same as it is every year for District 7; smooth mahogany wood, polished until it shines with tame brown horses pulling it.

"Now is the time when the Careers will be sussing each other out," Johanna murmurs, laying a hand on my shoulder and looking at the other tributes. Tributes, mentors, stylists and escorts alike are congregated around their respective chariots, each district sizing up their competition. "It also might be a time for you to consider allies, if you think you can handle them." She looks down at me and I look up at her. Her face is serious, brown eyes hard and cold. She's in Hunger Games mode.

"But you said I'd have to kill them," I say.

"Of course you will Genesis. It's a pageant of death. You either kill or be killed. Of course, you could be all noble and challenge them to a fair fight, or just let them go and hope someone else kills them. Killing them in their sleep is low, it's ruthless, but it's effective. And ruthlessness and effectiveness in these Games can be the difference between life or death."

I swallow nervously. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep in the arena.

"It's time to get on the chariot now," Johanna says, "Good luck. Smile. Wave. Wink. Flirt. They eat that up. Pretend like you're actually _happy_ to be here." Her face twists slightly when she says the word _happy_ but I still heed her advice and put on a big smile.

I reach out for Jaka's hand. His hand curls around mine, as if seeking reassurance. I give his hand a small squeeze.

We look at each other. I nod. He nods back.

The grand doors open, and the District 1 chariot rolls out.

It's followed quickly by District 2. District 3. District 4. District 5. District 6. District 7.

The sudden lights blind me, and I scrunch up my face momentarily before the blinding lights are over and it's just the colourful crowd. I hold tight to Jaka's hand, knowing it's all that's keeping me grounded. I hear the chants of the ground. District 1. District 2. District 4. The Careers. I hear…my name?

"Genesis and Jaka!"

"District 7!"

"Win for me, Genesis!"

"I love you, Jaka!"

I look around me at the crowd, beaming so much my face hurts, and the hand that doesn't hold Jaka's is waving at the crowd. I smile, I wave, I blow kisses, I wink, I make eye contact with as many people in the crowd as I possibly can.

I send a glance at Jaka and catch him glancing over at me. I give him a nod and he nods back before we both turn back to the crowd.

I tighten my grip on my little brother's hand and in that moment nothing in this world could've ever persuaded me to let go.


	6. Chapter 6: Scared to be Afraid

Chapter 6 – Scared to be Afraid

It's the first time I can properly survey the other tributes properly with no distractions but that of President Snow's speech. Of course, I can't see half of them clearly through the ridiculous costumes they wear, but I look at them anyway instead of paying attention to Snow's speech. The Careers, as usual, look either absolutely huge or terrifyingly cunning. Lorelei, the girl from 1, doesn't look as beautiful as she did on television. She looks rather average, at least compared to Telia. She seems to have a permanent scowl on her face, and is glaring up at Snow, but with occasional hopeful glances at her district partner, Riley, who either hasn't noticed or is ignoring her. I'm guessing it's the latter, as he's looking distinctly annoyed and is clenching his teeth. He's tall, broad-chested and menacing. His muscled arms, which are covered in glitter, are folded across his chest and his dirty-blonde hair is spiked up. He's looking around impatiently. The girl from 2, Astraea, is smaller than the rest of the Careers, but doesn't seem any less lethal. She looks like a mouse standing next to her huge district partner, Jared, but I somehow feel more afraid of her than I do of him. She seems to notice me staring at her, as she looks my way and throws an arrogant smirk at me before smugly folding her arms over her chest and looking back up at President Snow. I make a mental note not to underestimate her. Her district partner, Jared, who absolutely dwarfs her, isn't looking up at Snow, but rather lazily looking around, a bored look on his face. His arms are folded, like Riley's, and his fingers seem to be tapping an absentminded tune. I shudder looking at those arms, knowing it would be too easy for him to snap my neck with them.

I cringe when I see what the two from District 4 are wearing. They are both undoubtedly sexy, and both of them undoubtedly know that. Telia, the caramel-skinned, mahogany-haired beauty, looks extremely comfortable in the scanty scales that can barely be called an outfit. Taylor, her district partner, doesn't look as at home in what little he is wearing, but he's certainly more confident than any guy I know back home. They're both covered in some sort of silver paint that makes them glitter, as if they're fish glinting under the water. Apart from the Careers, the only one who might look like a threat is the boy from 8, Decimus I think his name is, in terms of physical size anyway. He didn't look too impressive at his reaping, but then again, I don't remember paying that much attention to his reaping, either, as it was right after mine and I sort of switched off after that. He's tall, almost as tall as Riley and Jared, and surprisingly large and muscled for someone from the outlying districts. I wonder how he got that kind of muscle working in factories. I make a mental note to watch out for him.

The rest of the tributes don't look all that threatening. Everyone from districts 9 to 12 don't look like much of a threat, but then again my own mentor didn't look like much of a threat at first, did she?

Looking around at all these tributes who in a few short days are going to be trying to kill me and my little brother, I realise something that I've been holding back since the reaping.

I'm scared. I'm terrified. Not just for Jaka, but for me. I'm scared to die, but I'm more scared to lose Jaka. I'd die a thousand times over if it meant he could live, but that doesn't mean I'm not absolutely terrified of my own death.

I let out a breath. I didn't realise that I was holding it. A shiver runs through my body and I close my eyes briefly, taking a few deep breaths before opening them and looking back up at President Snow.

He's just concluding his speech. The chariots lurch forward and I instinctively reach out the hand that is not holding Jaka's onto the side of the chariot to prevent myself from falling.

When the chariot stops we're away from the crowd and the cameras. Scarlett, Jaka's stylist, Johanna, Silva and Stephanie come running over to us, grins on all their faces, or in Johanna's case, a satisfied smirk.

"Well done," Johanna remarks as Silva helps first Jaka and then me from the chariot. "You did well."

"You have good stylists this year," Silva nods.

"People are going to wonder where you got all that muscle," Scarlett says, lifting up my toned arm. "But it'll only work to your advantage." She lets my arm drop.

Johanna's looking around at the other tributes rather suspiciously. "Let's go," she says, taking my arm and forcibly dragging me towards the glass elevator. I follow along behind her helplessly, wincing at her tight grip. The rest follow behind us.

We end up in the elevator with District 4. Johanna releases me and starts talking to the male mentor for District 4, Finnick Odair. He's incredibly attractive, I can't doubt that, but he seems too…Capitol nowadays. He won the 65th Games and since then he seems to be more Capitol than district. Word has it he has a long line of Capitol lovers and doesn't even give a second glance to the girls from the districts. I wonder how much of that is true.

I turn away from him, wondering if Jaka will become like that when he wins. I hope not…he has to be there for Leonides, and our father, and he certainly can't do that if he's off in the Capitol all the time.

Telia and Taylor, the beautiful pair from District 4, are both glaring at us. Jaka is pointedly avoiding their gaze, looking down at the floor, but I stare right back at Telia. Intimidation works more for me than it does for him. I know it's probably not the smartest thing to do to try and intimidate the Careers, but I just can't resist. It's not going to make a difference whether or not the Careers see me as a threat; it just means, if they find Jaka and I, they're going to go after me instead of him.

She's the first one to drop her gaze.

I'm glad when District 4 gets off at their floor. I could literally see everyone but Johanna and Stephanie sag in relief, the tension that had been in the air disappearing.

Once up on our own floor I realise just how tired I actually am. Sighing, I tell the rest of the crew that I'm going to bed before hurrying off to my room and locking the door.

I strip down out of my costume and go into the bathroom. I stare at my reflection for a moment before I vigorously wash all the makeup off and take a quick shower.

As I'm walking out into my room in my towel I hear Stephanie calling for me and knocking on my door, saying it's time for dinner.

"I'm not hungry!" I shout at her, my voice breaking on the last word, before changing into pyjamas and crawling into the huge bed and burying myself in pillows, not wanting anyone to hear me when I start sobbing.

**Sorry that this chapter is so short, but I feel like I had to end it there. Chapter 7 will be extra-long, I promise. :)**


	7. Chapter 7: Training and Alliances

Chapter 7 – Training and Alliances

Training starts the next day.

I'm wearing makeup – not much, just enough to hide the fact that I was crying last night – and I'm dressed in a black training outfit with the number 7 pinned on my back and my sleeves. I listen intently to the advice Silva and Johanna are giving us about training while we're eating breakfast.

"Don't show your skills," Johanna says. "It'll only make you a target of the Careers."

"Stick together," Silva advises us. "You're brother and sister. You're a package deal."

"Try to learn some common weapons. Knives, spears. They won't always have axes in the arena," Johanna says. "And it always helps to know more than one weapon."

"Don't spend your whole time at the weapons stations," Silva says. "Knowing about survival might just well save your damn life."

"Time to go," Stephanie finally says cheerfully. "You two ready?"

Jaka doesn't reply, so I nod for both of us, standing up and pushing my uneaten breakfast away from me. I'm much too nervous to even think about eating.

"What about the private sessions with the Gamemakers?" I ask the mentors as we walk towards the elevators. "What do I do then?"

"That is when you show them what you can do," Silva replies. "If you show them you're good with an axe then it's more likely that there'll be an axe in the arena. And getting a good score will help with sponsors."

I nod.

"And if you get any good with other weapons, show them, too," Johanna adds.

I nod again.

"Same goes for you, Jaka," Johanna says.

Jaka nods moodily, not taking his eyes off the floor.

"You right to go down with just Stephanie?" Silva asks as he and Johanna stop as Stephanie, Jaka and I step into the elevator. "Mentors don't generally take their tributes down to the gym floor."

"We'll be fine," Jaka says. "We're not little kids."

I look sideways at him. He seems particularly ticked off this morning. I briefly wonder what is it, but then push my curiosity down. He'll tell me if he wants to, otherwise I'll never get it out of him.

Stephanie takes us down to the gym floor. She wishes us luck before going back up to floor seven.

We're some of the first tributes there. The Careers from 1 and 2 are there, along with the two from 6 and the two from 12. The Careers are hanging longingly around the weapons, and I swallow nervously. They probably just can't wait to get their hands on those blades. The pair from 6 is sitting together but they aren't talking, just nervously and awkwardly looking around, avoiding each other's gaze. The two from 12 are sitting close together, murmuring to each other. I wonder if they're friends.

Jaka and I take a seat away from the other tributes. We don't talk, just sit there quietly waiting for training to start. I watch the other tributes as they trickle in, trying to name all of them. I can only put a name to a few of them.

Decimus, the huge boy from 8. Ariadne, his blonde district partner. Telia and Taylor, the pair from 4, who go over to join the rest of the Careers. Lyric, the boy from 10. He's the youngest tribute this year; he's thirteen. There are no twelve-year-olds, I remember that much from the reapings. I'm pretty sure the girl from 5 is called Vega or something, but I can't be sure.

Eventually we're all called to attention by the head trainer, a woman called Atala. She tells us what and what not to do, when lunchtime is, and then tells us to go and start training. No one really moves, except for the Careers, who all go over to the weapons stations. I stare, dumbfounded, as Jared, the boy from 2, rips off his shirt and begins fighting hand-to-hand combat with the trainer. He's incredibly good and has his trainer pinned in seconds.

"Genesis," Jaka whispers, tugging on my shirt. "Stop staring!"

I start, turning to look at Jaka. He looks embarrassed, and I feel warmth flood my cheeks. I look around at the rest of the tributes. I'm not the only one staring at Jared – most of the girls are staring at him as dumbfoundedly as I am, but they at least have moved from their original position.

Ducking my head, I run over to the nearest station, which happens to be knot-tying. The trainer looks ecstatic to see that he has a tribute.

We don't spend long tying knots, as Jaka is soon bored and tugs me over to the hand-to-hand combat station, where both tributes from District 2 are still fighting trainers. Jared still has his shirt off and is clearly better than his opponent, and Astraea is small, fast and lethal and quickly has her opponent pinned to the ground. She barely has a hair out of place.

"You really want to train here when the two from District 2 are here?" I whisper furiously to Jaka.

"C'mon, you dragged me to the station for tying knots. I've been itching to try out some hand-to-hand combat since we came down here. And besides, I would've thought you wouldn't mind being so close to the District 2 male." He gives me a cheeky grin and I open my mouth to retort hotly when we're interrupted.

"Do you two need a trainer?" we hear a voice.

We turn around and see a trainer looking expectantly at us.

"Yes," Jaka says, and steps forward confidently.

Astraea then leaves, and the trainer who was bested by her comes over to me. "You gonna learn too?" he asks, and I nod reluctantly. If Jaka wants to learn a bit of hand-to-hand then so be it, it won't hurt him in the arena.

He takes me over to the mat where Astraea was fighting. It's right next to where Jared is with his trainer, beating him over and over again. I can't help but feel intimidated.

Half an hour later, I can tell that I am really quite terrible at hand-to-hand. Whenever I pause for breath, I see Jaka excelling. He's a natural, and pins his trainer more times than his trainer pins him. Jared has left and is now throwing spears. I don't feel so uncomfortable now that he's gone, but I improve only marginally.

"Come on," the trainer says through gritted teeth. "Focus!"

I clench my jaw. I've had enough of this.

I bring my knee up, hard, in between the trainer's legs. His eyes widen as he lets go of me and stumbles backwards. I spit on the floor. I'm extremely annoyed with him.

"There," I snap. "You happy now?" I turn, flipping my hair as I go, and stalk over to the spear station. I appear to keep running out of luck today, as Jared is still here (with his shirt on now) throwing spears at the bullseyes, but I can't leave now; it would be blatantly obviously that I'm trying to avoid the Careers and for some reason I don't want people thinking that I'm scared of them. And, I reason, learning to throw a spear can't hurt.

I like the spears trainer more than the combat trainer. She's patient, and corrects my technique with gentle hands until I finally hit the dummy in the stomach instead of in the arm or leg or just missing the target completely.

"Yes!" I celebrate.

"Well done," the trainer says.

I hear slow clapping behind me.

"Yes, well done, District 7, well done. What's that, your tenth throw? Hate to break it to you, darling, but you won't get ten chances in the arena."

I spin around, seeing none other than Jared from District 2, smirking as he stops clapping.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," I say coldly, picking up another spear. He's silent as I throw it, and I let out a cry of frustration when it only skims the arm.

"Seems to me like spears aren't exactly your thing," Jared drawls. "Let me show you."

I consider ignoring him and going to find Jaka, but when I glance around and see that he's still at the hand-to-hand station, I turn back to the waiting boy from District 2. I try not to show how nervous I am.

He brings his arm back and winks at me before throwing. I see that the spear buries itself in the bullseye of the dummy, the chest, before it topples over from the force of the throw. My mouth drops open and my heart sinks. There's no doubt that Jared could very easily win this.

I turn back to him, and I see that he's smirking. He takes another spear and I think that he's going to throw it again, but instead he comes over to me. I watch him curiously, carefully schooling my expression, and I flinch slightly when he puts the cold metal in my hand.

"Relax," he murmurs. He curls his hand over mine on the spear and adjusts my grip until he deems it perfect. With his other hand he guides my body until I'm standing in the correct position, before bringing back the spear arm at the correct angle.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

"Teaching you to throw the spear," he replies. "You ready?"

"No."

"Good." Without any more warning than that he throws the spear – or, I guess I do. It flies in a graceful arc until it hits the dummy in the exact same place his ones before had. The dummy doesn't topple over, though. I guess I'm not that strong.

"Think you could do that by yourself?" he purrs, smirking wider when he senses my obvious discomfort. He's enjoying this a lot more than he should.

"I –"

"No?" he says. "I guess I'll have to teach you again then." He steps away from me, retracting his arms from around my body. My cheeks are flaming red and I'm pretty sure I look rather flustered.

While he's still mulling over which spear to take, I chance a glance at Jaka. He's leaning against the wall near the hand-to-hand combat station, his eyebrow raised and a silent question on his face.

_What was that?_

I glance back at Jared. He's still choosing a spear. I'm flustered, and most certainly confused, by what just transpired, and although I long to stick around and find out just what the hell he was thinking when he 'taught' me to throw the spear like _that_, but I need to get over to Jaka and I'm still terrified of Jared. He is a Career, after all, and from District 2 nonetheless.

So instead of sticking around and letting him touch me again, I hurry towards Jaka, who smiles in satisfaction when he sees me coming over to him.

"I thought I was the only guy in your life," he jokes as soon as I'm within earshot.

I smack him upside the head and reply, "Jared is not a 'guy in my life', Jaka," I say, rolling my eyes. "He's a Career that's being annoying."

"You didn't seem to mind it," Jaka smirks. "And it seems you're on first-name basis with him now."

I can feel my cheeks heating up again. Yes, Jared is a terrifying bloodthirsty killer who will murder me in a second without a thought, but he is also undeniably good-looking and I am undeniably a teenage girl. A teenage girl who happens to like good-looking guys teaching her to throw a spear. But aren't all teenage girls like that?

"You're not here to make fun of me and say I like a killer," I snap. "You're here to train, and so am I. So can we _please_ start training?"

Jaka smirks but doesn't say anything, just lets me lead him over to another station.

Lunchtime is kind of awkward. Everyone except the Careers, the two from 12 and Jaka and I are awkwardly sitting on their own, quietly eating their food and hoping no one notices them. Jaka still has that annoying smirk on his face. Jared had left me alone for the rest of the morning though, so _why_ Jaka is still smirking I don't know.

Actually, I do know. It's because he's my brother and he is an absolute jerk.

So I decide to distract him with conversation. This small talk only lasts a little while, before we eventually come to the inevitable subject: the Games.

"I was thinking," Jaka says slowly, "well…I mean…what would you think of…about…an alliance?"

I stare at him. "But Jaka, we're already an alliance," I say, deliberately misunderstanding him.

He fidgets uncomfortably. "That's…not what I meant."

I sigh. "Who were you thinking of?" I don't want an alliance with anyone but Jaka, but if he's determined to have more people to watch, then so be it. Anything to keep him safe.

"Well, while you were with Jared –" smirk "I talked to Vera. You know, the girl from 5." Oh. Her name's Vera, not Vega. Close enough.

I repress a groan. If it's an alliance Jaka wants, couldn't he at least choose someone who actually has a chance of getting _out_ of the bloodbath?

"She already has a deal with her district partner and Ariadne from 8 and they want to team up," Jaka says. "I told them I'd talk to you."

"Jaka," I say as gently as I can, but then my voice hardens. "Vera and her partner have no chance of getting out of the bloodbath," I say bluntly. "I know you don't like it, but that's the way it is. Ariadne would be good enough for an alliance I suppose, I saw her with the knives before, she's actually pretty good. But I don't trust her. And I also don't want bloodbaths in our alliance."

"Please?" Jaka's looking at me with puppy-dog eyes and I groan when he gives me that look, knowing I'm a goner already. "Vera's pretty clever. And her district partner is a good climber."

"If you want a smart person then just ask those from 3," I say, trying to reason with him. "they're bound to be smart. Don't take a chance with 5. They have one of the lowest Victor-rates."

"So?" Jaka says stubbornly. "They can help us." His face turns puppy-dog again. "Please, Genesis? For me?"

I groan again. "_Fine,_" I say. "But no more than the two from 5 and Ariadne. I'll make sure they don't stab you in the back." But he doesn't hear the last sentence, as he's already bounded off towards Vera to tell her that I've accepted.

I sigh, putting my head in my hands. What have I done?

* * *

I know as soon as training resumes that saying yes to the alliance was a bad idea. Now we have two tagalongs, Vera and her district partner whose name I still have yet to learn. Or perhaps it's better that I don't know his name – it'll make it easier when he inevitably dies.

We're currently at the berries station, learning which berries are and aren't safe for eating. Some of the berries I recognise, knowing them from the woods back home where I work. Sometimes during a hard day of work I'd come across a colourful little patch of berries. At first I'd needed my father, or one of the other workers, to help me identify them, but as time passed and I came across them more and more, I learned which berries were and weren't safe. If there was just a small patch I'd sometimes just snack on them myself, but most of the time I'd share them with the group I was working with that day. I'd gotten the nickname 'Berry' for that, seeing as no one else seemed to take an interest in the berries, or be kind enough to share them around. I don't think they knew about my mini-feasts when there was just a small amount.

But here in the Training Centre in the Capitol, with all kinds of berries laid out in front of me, I can only recognise a handful of them. I'm totally engrossed in my work, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Vera just as engrossed, but I suspect the boys aren't so interested in learning about berries.

But Silva's words from this morning echo in my head as I force my restless brain to focus on the mundane task of memorising berries. _"Knowing about survival might just well save your damn life."_ He's right, I know. Knowing the difference between safe and unsafe berries _could_ be the difference between life and death. So with that thought in mind, I commit to the task of learning all the berries.

I spend a long time there; Vera has long since wandered off by the time I finally look up, my neck cramped from looking down at a bench for so long. It's just like school, learning the berries; cramming as much study as you can into your already tired brain before the test tomorrow.

But for me, instead of a written test about trees, my test is the Hunger Games. It's a lot direr.

Jaka is (predictably) not with me at the berries station anymore; he's instead hanging out with Vera and her district partner at the knives station. It takes me a little while to recognise the blonde with them, but I eventually realise that it's the fifth part of our alliance, Ariadne from District 8.

_Five people,_ I think to myself, shaking my head slightly. Our alliance is almost as big as the Career one now. Except the Career pack is also bigger than the normal six this year; Decimus from 8 has decided to join up with them. I wonder how Ariadne feels about that.

I lean my head back and look at the ceiling, thinking of how good a massage would be right now.

Finally sighing at the realisation that no one is randomly going to show up behind me and give me a nice massage to ease my aching neck, I stand up and walk over to where the rest of my alliance is gathered. As I'd seen before Ariadne is very good with knives, and hits near or on the bullseye every time. At the moment she's helping Jaka, and I frown when I see that they're in a similar position to that of which Jared and I were in a few short hours ago. She's standing behind him, so close that they're touching, and one of her hands is curled over his on the knife while the other is gently positioning his body.

Some overprotective older sister instinct comes over to me, and all I want to do in that moment is to march over to them and tackle her off him and tell her never to touch him again, but doing that would be extremely hypocritical. I hadn't exactly discouraged Jared from 'teaching' me to throw the spear, had I? And Jaka hadn't come over and ripped Jared off me; not that I actually think he could, of course. Jared is a well-fed, trained eighteen-year-old Career from District 2 while Jaka is an underfed, untrained fourteen-year-old from District 7. Sure, he's pretty handy with an axe, but he'd stand no chance against Jared, even with an axe. The thought of Jaka going up against the monster from District 2 makes me shudder.

I join them at the knives station. I'm alright with knives, but they're a little out of my comfort zone, just as practically every weapon except an axe is. I still look like a master next to the duo from 5, though.

My lips curve down into a frown as I watch them. _Why_ did Jaka agree to an alliance with them? Was it to be with Ariadne? I slyly take a glance at the two in question. Ariadne isn't 'teaching' him anymore, but they're talking while they train.

I sigh in frustration. He's only setting himself up for pain when she dies. And having Vera and her district partner tagging along will only make her death come about quicker.

I turn back to the two from District 5 and make a decision. I grab Vera's arm when she's free of knives and drag her over to the quizzing station which quizzes you on random things that knowing the answer to might help you in the arena.

I point at the station when we're at it and fold my arms, glaring at her stonily. "Solve it."

She looks scared. "What?"

"Do it," I snap. "I don't even know why Jaka wants you and your district partner in an alliance. He says you're smart. Prove it."

She looks terrified. I feel a twinge of regret. I'm truly scaring her. I'm scaring her as much as the Careers scare me.

She slowly sits down at the station. The first question comes up on the screen. _What kind of berry kills you before it hits your stomach?_

I snort at the easy question. The answer is nightlock. Vera apparently knows this too, as she quickly types in nightlock and gets it correct.

She continues to answer the questions, barely even looking up at the screen before back down at the keyboard and typing in the answer, which every time is correct. I feel my jaw slowly dropping as she gets every single question right. I don't know the answer to over half the questions that come up, but Vera doesn't even hesitate before typing in the correct answer. What did they _teach_ her in District 5 to make her so smart?

She's answered thirty-three questions, all one hundred per cent correct, by the time I put my hand on her shoulder and softly tell her to stop. She looks up at me with doe brown eyes, hopeful that she's impressed me.

"How did you know all of that?" I ask, still rather astounded.

Vera shrugs. "I just know," she says.

I stare at the screen for another couple of disbelieving minutes before turning back to Vera and smiling. "Guess I was wrong. Sorry, Vera. Let's go and join our alliance."

Vera breaks out into a relieved smile and happily follows me back to Jaka, Ariadne and the still-nameless district partner of Vera. I don't feel the need to test him; if Vera's that smart, then he's probably pretty clever too.

* * *

"How was training?" Johanna asks as Jaka and I finally walk into the television room after a long day of training and a quick shower for both of us.

"Productive," I answer for us both. "We're in an alliance."

Johanna and Silva exchange a look. "With who?" Silva asks.

"Both from 5 and Ariadne from 8," Jaka answers.

Johanna frowns. "District 5? 8? Really? Why?"

"Vera, from 5, is _really_ smart," I say.

"And Ariadne from 8 is really good with knives," Jaka adds.

"You're still going to have to stab them in the back when it comes down to it, you know that," Johanna says.

I nod. I do know that. I just hope that we can stab them before they can stab us.


	8. Chapter 8: Technicalities

Chapter 8 – Technicalities

That night it's hard to sleep. I keep tossing and turning. My mind is bustling busily, struggling to keep up with everything that's going on. The Games, Jaka, Jaka and Ariadne, training, alliances that I suspect Johanna doesn't really approve of, the Games, the private sessions with the Gamemakers, the interviews, the Games, Jared…there's just too much to worry about, especially when I'm trying to sleep.

As a result, eventually my fancy room becomes too stuffy for me, and I throw off the covers, pull on a jacket and silently leave my room.

In the elevator, as well as the twelve buttons for each floor, there is a T for training and an R for the roof. Johanna had told me about the roof during dinner, telling me it is a good place if I want to clear my head. I press the button for the roof.

The glass elevator zooms upwards, to the very top of the Training Centre. When the doors open I'm standing on a windy, blustery roof with a small garden. It's about as close as I'll get to trees in the Capitol, I suspect.

Hugging my jacket tighter around me, I walk over to the edge overlooking the Capitol. It really is stunning. Towering candy-coloured buildings reaching up to the starless sky, extravagant people dancing and partying in the streets, everything glowing bright neon colours; it certainly is fancier than the dull browns, greens and greys of District 7. I wish –

"Well it certainly took you long enough to interpret my message, Howard."

I jump. How didn't I hear her? How is Johanna so silent?

I spin around, glaring at her. "I was enjoying being alone," I snap.

"Tough," she says, coming up to stand beside me overlooking the city. "I asked you to meet me here an hour ago."

"No you didn't," I say, confused.

She turns to me and gives me a condescending look. "Honey, the dining hall is bugged," she says. "I had to trust your smarts. Apparently you aren't very smart."

I glare at her. "How was I supposed to know that you wanted me to meet you up here at whatever time?"

"Well," Johanna says, "I told you that the roof was a good place to clear your head. That you interpreted correctly, at least. And I left a note under your pillow. You didn't get it?"

I shake my head. "I came up here because it felt stuffy and I just remembered what you said. And I never got any note."

"You obviously just didn't look under your pillow," Johanna says in annoyance.

"Why would I look under my pillow?" I ask exasperatedly. "It's not as if I make a habit of looking for coded notes from my mentor."

Johanna makes a noise of frustration but doesn't say anything.

"So why'd you want to meet me up here in the first place?" I ask.

She turns and looks at me sideways. "I overheard the District 4 mentors talking," she says softly, "Annie and Finnick."

"And?" I press.

"Apparently their tributes confided in them that they think you're the main target," she says. "They're going to go for you as soon as you get in the arena. They've told their allies to as well."

"That's stupid," I say. "I'm just a random girl from District 7. What threat do I pose?"

"I never said they were smart," Johanna says, smirking a little. "But, they'll stop at nothing to make sure you die above everyone else. I think the girl especially has it out for you. I think she's just bitter that you're prettier than her."

I snort. There's no way that _anyone_ could be prettier than Telia. And is she really so vain that she'd target me simply because she feels I'm prettier than her? And I thought normal Careers were messed up. Telia is simply insane. I can't imagine someone caring about their looks _that_ much. I say as much.

"Well apparently that girl does," Johanna says. "So, just…watch out for her."

"Well…thanks," I say. "Is that all?"

"No," Johanna shakes her head. "I don't approve of your alliance." I guess I was right in thinking that she doesn't approve.

"Neither do I," I say. "Well…I don't know why the District 5 boy is still with us, I don't even know his name. But Vera's really smart, and Ariadne's really good with knives."

"Both District Fives are bloodbaths," Johanna says exasperatedly. "And neither of them has the heart to kill. That's why the District 5 boy is with you. The girl feels bad so she's just letting him in the alliance. I bet that if you come across anyone in the arena she won't let you kill them. And I think you're underestimating, or perhaps overestimating, Ariadne. I don't think she's all that she seems."

"Why?" I ask, confused. I hadn't been suspicious of Ariadne at all, she'd been perfectly friendly.

"She's just…" Johanna struggles to explain. "Just keep an eye on her at all times," she concedes.

"As if I'm not already doing that already," I say sarcastically.

"I'm serious, Genesis," she says exasperatedly. "I know what I'm talking about. I did win this thing once! So just listen to me and maybe it'll save your brother's damn life!" with that she storms off, obviously angry with me, and I immediately feel bad. I know that I shouldn't've ticked her off like that. An angry Johanna is never a nice Johanna, and she's my mentor after all. I really should listen to her.

I sigh, but instead of following her back inside I sit down on the roof. I stare out at the colourful Capitol, now with another couple of things on my mind to worry me. A seventeen-year-old girl isn't supposed to have all of this on her shoulders, is she?

"Well, if it isn't my darling little spear trainee."

I curse under my breath as I jump up and spin around in the same move, automatically going into a defensive stance. It's Jared; I'd know that arrogant, mocking voice anywhere. Not to mention he's the only one who could really call me 'spear trainee' with a reason. But _his_ spear trainee? His _little_ spear trainee? His _darling little spear trainee?_

"I am not little," I spit. "And I'm not your stupid 'darling' spear trainee, either."

"Oh really?" he raises an eyebrow. "Because I was under the impression that you were, at least until you ran off."

"I'd much rather spend time training with my brother than some Career who will be out to kill me in a couple of days," I say spitefully.

He smirks. "True, true," he says, nodding. He then takes a step closer to me, and I instinctively back up. My foot hits the ledge and I curse again when I realise I'm right at the edge, another step back and I'll go plummeting twelve floors to the bottom.

His smirk widens. "Backed into a corner, District 7?" he asks.

"More of a ledge," I mutter.

He chuckles. "Technicalities," he says airily, waving a hand dismissively.

"What do you want?" I demand. I'm relieved that my voice doesn't betray any of the nervousness, the fear, that I feel. I hope he can't hear my heartbeat going a million miles an hour, my breathing starting to come in short sharp gasps.

He steps closer to me. There are only one or two inches between us now. I don't look into his eyes. Instead I stare at his collarbone, which I am eye-level with, as he draws closer. His collarbone is rather defined; I can see it underneath the sleeveless shirt that he's wearing. I wonder if he's cold or if Careers have somehow become immune to the cold. I won't be surprised if it is the case.

"You're not in it to win it, are you, Genesis?" he murmurs.

I'm surprised at the question. How would he know, and why should he care?

But still I answer.

"No," I reply, just as quietly as he'd asked. "I'm in it to save my brother."

"Interesting," he breathes, and he brings his hand up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I flinch slightly but he doesn't pull away, instead his hand lingers on my cheek and gently brings my head up so I'm looking into his eyes. I'd never noticed before, but I realise now that his eyes are a dark, liquid-like brown, similar to the chocolate I've been eating since I came to the Capitol.

"W – What's interesting?" I stutter, and I internally curse. Why do I have to stutter _now_ of all times?

"How close you all are," he murmurs. "How willing you are to…save each other."

"We put family above everything else," I reply shortly. "Quite different from District 2, isn't it?"

He doesn't rise to the bait. I was hoping that, by taking a jab at his home, that he would stop being so strange and go back to being the Career he's supposed to be: a cold, ruthless killer. Because this soft-spoken, gentle Jared is confusing me. But my plan doesn't work.

"Yes," he says, "in my district all we care about is the Games. We volunteer for self-gain, not to save loved ones."

I snort quietly. "Why you would ever want to enter the Games I don't –" I'm cut off suddenly as I feel a light pressure on my lips. It only lasts a second, but it's still there. I'm too surprised to do anything but just stand there frozen.

Jared looks into my surprised grey eyes when he pulls away from the kiss. He gives me a small sad smile.

"Make your decision, Genesis," he whispers softly before turning and hurrying quickly back to the elevator, leaving me standing frozen right on the edge. _What was that?_

* * *

"Knock, knock," Stephanie knocks on my door far too early the next morning. "Wake up, Genesis! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

I groan, burying my head in my pillow. "Go 'way, 'Tephanie," I say, my voice muffled by the pillow. "I wanna sleep."

I hear the door open behind me. I feel the rush of cold air as Stephanie rips the warm covers off my body. I moan pitifully, feebly kicking my legs in an attempt to bat her away. But, it doesn't work.

"Get _up,_ Genesis," she huffs. "At this rate you're going to be late for training."

"Good," I mumble. "I don't want to go anyway."

I'm so embarrassed, and so nervous, that at this point I'd rather go straight into the arena early than have to face two more days of training. I don't want to face Jared. He…_kissed_ me last night. What kind of Career does that? He is a ruthless, in-it-to-win-it District 2 Career who has been waiting for this moment all his life and I'm just this feeble little girl from District 7 who wants to ensure her brother's survival. What were his reasons for that? Was he trying to distract me; does he really think that I am that much of a threat, and he's just trying to help take me out? Is he trying to lull me into a false sense of security, so that if we cross in the arena I won't have my guard up? And what decision was he talking about? Him or Jaka? Win or lose? Live or die? Because if he was asking that, then I sure as hell will not choose him over my little brother.

_Or maybe,_ a voice in my head that sounds strangely like Jocelyn's giggles, _he's attracted to you._

If I could glare at voices in my head then right now I'd be giving the death stare to Jocelyn's voice.

Careers don't have feelings. The way they relish killing proves that. No humane person takes pleasure in ending the lives of others, especially children. They are dead-set on returning glory to their district; they don't have time for petty romances.

"Get up, tribute." That's not Stephanie's voice. That's Johanna's voice, and she still sounds mad at me.

I sigh, rolling onto my back and blearily opening my eyes. Stephanie isn't in the room anymore, but Johanna is standing over me, hands on hips and a glare on her face that would send grown men running for cover.

"I guess you're still mad at me?" I mumble.

Johanna sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her short spiky hair. "Not for that. Not for last night. I overreacted," she admits.

I stare at her. Did Johanna Mason just admit that she overreacted?

Johanna laughs. "Don't go thinking it'll become a regular occurrence," she chuckles.

"What?" I say confusedly. Did I just speak aloud?

Johanna laughs once again. "Yes, you did, Genesis, yes you did."

I groan. "That's embarrassing," I say.

"Just don't do it in the arena," she says. "Now, get up, you lazy speak-your-minder. We've got breakfast to go to. And if you're not there in ten minutes I'm gonna be mad. And everyone knows that a mad Johanna is never a good Johanna."

I nod. "Ten minutes," I say.

"Ten minutes," she repeats once more in confirmation before turning and sweeping out of the room, softly shutting the door behind her.

I can't exactly disobey my mentor, so I regretfully get up off my comfy bed and trudge over to the bathroom, turn on a steaming shower and slowly wake up as the hot water hits my face.

I come out smelling like the forest after rain again – I figured out which button makes me smell like that – and quickly towel-dry myself, forgetting about the fancy button which blow-dries me instantly, dressing in the training outfit Stephanie left out for me again and quickly throwing my hair up into a top-knot. That should keep it out of the way.

"Ten minutes on the dot," Johanna whistles lowly as I finally saunter into the dining room ten minutes later.

I shrug, sitting down next to Jaka and filling up my plate. "I didn't want you to be mad," I say.

A little while later, Jaka and I are back in the gym, working on learning how to light a fire without matches, when he nudges me and not-so-subtly glances over at Jared, who is shirtless again and this time beheading dummies with a sword.

"You certainly picked a show-off," he snickers.

I stare at him. "What?"

"He's a show-off," he says slowly, as if he's talking to a small child. "Like, he shows off."

"No, not that. I heard you," I say. "What do you mean I 'picked' him?"

I'm fretting. Jaka can't know about the kiss, can he? No, I'm certain it was just me and Jared up on the roof last night. Are there cameras up there? Did they get a recording of the kiss? Has it gone viral in the Capitol? Are Jared and I expected to play lovers now or something?

Jaka looks at me like I'd grown another head. "I was just joking around," he says, and then frowns. "Why?"

"Nothing," I answer too quickly, and he raises an eyebrow at me.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes!" again, too quickly.

"Genesis," he says quietly, looking up at me with his big blue eyes. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing," I mutter. "It's nothing."

"You're lying, Genesis."

"No, I'm not!" I exclaim angrily. "Just leave it alone, Jaka. But like you're one to talk. Don't think I didn't see you with Ariadne yesterday."

He has the grace to look rather embarrassed. "She was teaching me to throw a knife," he mumbles.

"You know as well as I do that you can throw knives decently enough without needing Ariadne to personally train you."

"She was helping me," he says defensively. "It's not as if anything's going to come of it."

I raise my eyebrows. He's looking down intently at what should probably be a fire, but looks more like the charred remains of an overcooked meal. I reach out a finger and place it on his chin, gently tilting up his face to be eye-level with mine. His face is beet-red.

"You're blushing," I say mildly.

"No I'm –"

"Alright, let's just leave it alone," I say exasperatedly. "We're here to learn how to start a fire, not gossip like teenage girls."

"But you are a teenage girl."

I wave him off. "Technicalities," I say airily, and then I pause. Jared had said exactly that last night when I'd pointed out that I was technically backed into a ledge, not a corner.

As I glance back over to the shirtless male and feel my stomach do a flip, I start to realise something. These are more than just the Hunger Games now, at least for me. They've become the Love Games. And there's no way they can ever end well; I'll die, Jared'll die, Jaka will go back to District 7 and find a girl and marry her and live happily ever after. Because the Hunger Games is no place for love. You love in the Hunger Games, at least one of you dies.

It's no place for any type of love. I stare at Jaka as he tries furiously to light the fire, and suddenly tears are pricking at my eyes. There are too many people I care about at risk of dying. Jaka. Jared. Myself. Even those in my alliance I'm starting to care for, including the nameless boy from District 5.

"Here," says a young, girlish voice and I turn my head to see Vera, bending down to help Jaka light the fire. My heart contracts painfully. Because I care for the innocent, clever girl and it'll hurt when she dies.

I bury my head in my hands, shaking my head and forcing the tears back. I care too easily. I fall too easily. I'm weak. I let my emotions take over and I let myself grow to care for the people around me. And while usually that wouldn't be a bad thing, this is the Hunger Games. People die. Everyone dies. It's no place for sympathy. It's no place for caring. It's no place for relationships. It's no place for love. It's no place for anything but death.

And suddenly I'm glad that I don't aspire to be the victor. Should I leave the arena alive I'd never overcome the grief that will undoubtedly accompany winning. Or the guilt. And I can't handle that. Especially if Jaka is gone.

Sometimes I think the lucky ones aren't the ones who come out of the arena. It's the ones that never leave.

_Technicalities,_ Jocelyn's voice says airily.


	9. Chapter 9: Training Scores

Chapter 9 – Training Scores

Two days later and it's time for the private sessions with the Gamemakers. I'm sitting between Jaka and Decimus, awaiting my turn. I nervously bounce my knee while I'm waiting, biting my lip as I look down at the floor.

"_Jaka Howard._"

I finally look up as a disembodied female voice calls Jaka through. I squeeze his hand and he gives me a small smile before standing up and going into the gym.

I go back to anxiously bouncing my knee and staring at the floor. My thoughts are whirring. What should I do? Throw some axes? Behead some dummies? With the nerves I'm feeling, I'm not sure if I'll be able to even hit the target, let alone the bullseye. Should I throw some knives? I probably shouldn't. My talent with knives depends on luck.

Or maybe I should throw a spear.

My mouth curves down into frown as my mind immediately associates spears with Jared. I still don't know why he'd kissed me that night on the rooftop. He hadn't acknowledged me in any way yesterday or today in training, and I'd done my best to do the same to him. I just don't know what is going on in that pretty little head of his. Why kiss me? Why kiss me on the rooftop and then ignore me like I'm just one of the other tributes?

_Because he's attracted to you, _the Jocelyn-voice in my head giggles again.

I ignore the voice. It's not helping.

"_Genesis Howard." _

I look up towards the gym doors. Has fifteen minutes really already passed?

I slowly stand up, taking a deep breath and steeling myself.

_You can do this, _I tell myself. _Wow them, Genesis._

I walk over and push open the gym doors. They close softly behind me.

I walk over to stand in front of the Gamemakers. They look rather tipsy. I spend a good few minutes standing there waiting for them to acknowledge me, and I'm getting rather annoyed. But finally they've all turned to me and one nods at me, saying, "Begin."

Immediately it comes to me. I know what to do, and I know it as well as if I'd been up all night figuring out the perfect plan. I _know_ this will impress them. It just has to work.

Immediately I'm over at the axes station. I look back at them, making sure that they're watching, before picking up an axe with a silver handle. I toss it up in the air a few times, making sure to always catch it on the handle, partly to get the feel of the axe, partly just showing off. I hope that that has impressed them already.

I bring my arms above my head and let it fly. It swings, handle over blade, in a perfect arc until it flies into the bullseye.

I turn back towards the Gamemakers, eyebrows raised as if to say, _how did I do?_

They're all staring at me intently, looking impressed. I smirk, satisfied, before picking up another axe and beheading a few dummies. The axe feels like an extension of my arms. I love the feel of having it back in my hands. I feel like I can take on the world, with this simple weapon in my hand.

I'm hardly even out of breath when I finish. I turn back to the Gamemakers. They all look very impressed.

One of them nods his head. "Thank you, Miss Howard, you are dismissed." I give him a sweet smile before throwing the axe at another one of the dummies to dispose of it, hoping that it hits the bullseye, before sauntering out of the room.

"How did you do?" Johanna asks as I come back to floor 7.

I shrug. "Not bad," I say nonchalantly. "I think they'll be impressed."

She smirks, which is as close as Johanna can get to a smile. "Nice job, Howard."

A couple of hours later Stephanie calls us all to the television room, announcing excitedly in her Capitol-accented voice that it's time to see the training scores.

We all crowd into the lavish room. Me, Jaka and Johanna are sitting on the couch, and while Jaka and I are sitting forward anxiously waiting for Caesar to get the ball rolling, Johanna is casually laid back, sprawled out as if she owns the place. Silva is comfortable on one of the chairs, and Stephanie is sitting straight-backed on another of the chairs.

Finally, after a couple of jokes to get the crowd warmed up, Caesar settles down and announces that it's time to read the scores.

"From District 1: Riley Jamison," he reads out, and pauses for dramatic effect. "With a score of: 10." Caesar grins at the camera. "Lorelei Williamson," he pauses again, "with a score of: 9." I gulp. They're both going to be strong competition. "From District 2: Jared Waters. With a score of: 11."

I suck in a breath as gasps fill the room. _11?_ Just how good is he? How on earth did he score an _eleven?_

"Astraea Faye. With a score of: 10."

"She's lethal," Johanna mutters.

"From District 3: Octavian Welloby. With a score of: 8."

I give another surprised gasp. How did a scrawny boy from District 3 achieve an 8?

"Melina Harley. With a score of: 4."

"Bloodbath," Johanna mutters, and I can't help but agree with her.

"From District 4," Caesar continues. "Taylor Beckett. With a score of: 9." I bite my lip as I stare at the screen. "Telia Westbourne. With a score of: 10."

I sit back, sighing. There are all the Careers' scores. I knew that they'd all get nines and tens, but an _eleven?_

"There're your allies," Johanna mutters, nudging my arm.

I look back up at the screen. Vera's district partner, whose name I still haven't got, scores a 3. That's terrible. Vera doesn't do much better, scraping a 5.

I sigh. If we wanted someone smart we should've just gotten Octavian; I'm pretty sure that he didn't get that 8 from chucking around a couple of axes.

Both from 6 both get a 5. I don't think they'll last that long either.

And then it's us next. I sit forward anxiously again, holding my breath.

"From District 7: Jaka Howard," Caesar says. "With a score of: 8."

I turn towards my brother, grinning as he leans back against the couch in relief and Silva congratulates him.

I turn back to the screen as Caesar says my name.

"Genesis Howard. With a score of: 10."

My mouth drops open. A _ten?_ That's the same score as three of the Careers! How on earth did I achieve a ten?

"Congratulations." I barely even feel it as Jaka pulls me into a hug.

"How did I achieve that?" I ask, feeling slightly awed.

"Guess you're as good as you say you are," Johanna says approvingly.

I look at her. "I was never arrogant," I say.

She smirks but doesn't say anything back, just turns and starts talking to Silva.

"Oh," Jaka suddenly says. "Ouch."

"What?" I look at him, and he points to the television screen.

Decimus' hulking form is filling up the screen, with the number 7 beside it.

"The Careers aren't going to be too happy about that," I smirk.

"No," he says, "they're not."

"Ariadne Castellan," Caesar announces, and I feel Jaka tense up slightly. "With a score of: 9."

Johanna lets out a low whistle. "You've got some good competition this year," she says.

"Well Ariadne is part of our alliance," Jaka says.

Johanna mutters something that I don't quite catch, but I think Jaka does by the way he frowns and then glares at her. I don't bother to ask.

The rest of the tributes vary from threes to sixes. I somehow think that the majority of them will all be pretty easy competition.

"Well, time for bed," Stephanie chirps. "Tomorrow is a big, big, big day!"

**Sorry again for the short chapter! I just felt like it had to end there. The next chapters will be longer, I promise.**


	10. Chapter 10: It's All for Show

Chapter 10 – It's All for Show

The next day Stephanie allows me an extra half hour of sleep before, as is routine, knocking on my door and demanding I get up. I don't really see the point in resisting her wake-up calls anymore, so I get up immediately, shower, dress and then make my way to the dining hall, where everyone except Jaka is seated quietly eating breakfast. Well, everyone is quiet except for Stephanie – that woman never shuts up. She's babbling on about something to do with pink and green and birthday parties and I tune it out as I sit down between Silva and Johanna and start heaping food onto my plate.

We continue to eat in silence for a while, excluding and ignoring Stephanie of course, until Jaka comes in, bleary-eyed and zombie-like, plopping into the chair opposite Silva and then dropping his head onto his plate instead of getting food.

"Jaka?" I ask.

He makes a noncommittal sound.

"You'd better start eating, Howard," Johanna says. "You won't get anything until lunchtime."

Jaka groans as he lifts up his head. I stare at him. He looks like he's had no sleep at all.

"Couldn't sleep," he says gruffly in response to my inquisitive look. I can tell that he's not telling me something, by the way he avoids my eyes and fiddles anxiously with the tassels on the tablecloth. But I decide not to ask him. Not here, anyway.

"Have something to eat, kiddo," Silva says, heaping a pile of pancakes onto Jaka's plate himself.

Moodily Jaka starts to eat. Again I wonder what is going on, but again I stay silent.

After a few minutes of tense silence – even Stephanie has quieted – Johanna speaks.

"Okay, so, Genesis, today you'll first be with Stephanie for four hours. She'll teach you useless things like how to walk in heels." She ignores Stephanie's squeak of indignation at that. "Then I'll come get you. We'll have lunch and then you'll have four hours with me."

"Oh no."

"Shut it. As I was saying, you'll have four hours with me and I'll be teaching you your angle for the interviews."

"That'll take four hours?" I ask, surprised.

"It'll take longer," Johanna nods. "But unfortunately we don't have any longer than four hours, so we'll just have to make do."

"Jaka, you'll be the same," Silva says to my brother. "But in reverse. You'll start out with four hours with me and then four hours with Stephanie."

"What, so I'll be walking in heels?" Jaka snorts.

"No, no, you'll be learning about how to sit properly, how to speak, etcetera," Stephanie corrects him.

"Sounds fun," Jaka mutters, and I snort in amusement.

It seems that there is, in fact, a lot Stephanie can teach me in four hours. By the end of it my feet are complaining from the heels, my back is aching from sitting up ramrod-straight and all I want to do is stop these 'ladylike' lessons, throw the shoe at Stephanie, run away and go do something tomboyish, ripping this elegant dress on the way. I've lost count over how many times I have tripped over the floor-length hem.

So when Johanna comes to collect me at noon, I am extremely grateful. I kick off the heels, quickly change into the comfortable pants and hoodie I was in before, and take great satisfaction in watching Johanna shoo Stephanie from the room.

We go over to where you can order food through room service, pressing a button beside my bed and speaking what food you want. We choose some simple cheese and turkey sandwiches with some lemonade to wash it down.

We sit down to eat the sandwiches. Johanna watches me as I stuff as many sandwiches as I can into my mouth, ravenous. I don't even take the time to wonder how lessons with Stephanie have made me so hungry.

Finally, as I start to slow down my eating a little, she speaks.

"So, your angle," she begins, "I still don't know you very well, so I don't know which angle would really suit you. You're not exactly a bubbly chatty girl that everyone likes." I snort. I'm exactly the opposite. "So that's out. And your high training score cuts out all those wimpy angles. And you're not a ruthless, bloodthirsty, insane killer."

I shudder. No, I am most definitely _not_ a ruthless, bloodthirsty, insane killer.

"But, as I told you before on the train, your looks can help you pull off the shallow, dumb blonde angle. I know you hate it – I hate it too, and I'm not even blonde – but the Capitolites love that sort of angle. You have heard of Cashmere, right, from District 1? Yeah, she went for that angle, and she got practically the whole Capitol to sponsor her. It saved her life having those sponsors. It can do the same for you; or, in your case, it can save your brother's life."

"I'm not…" I struggle to explain. "That's not how I want to be remembered," I say. "I want to be me at least a little bit."

"Tough," Johanna says. "Tell me, Genesis: which angle will get you more sponsors from people like the Capitolites, the sexy dumb blonde or the boring, sarcastic, unfriendly, feisty girl that dresses like a boy?"

"I'm not a boring, sarcastic, unfriendly, feisty girl that dresses like a boy," I say, offended. She gestures to my boyish pants and even more boyish hoodie.

"You're not exactly likeable, Genesis," Johanna says bluntly. "In fact, you're pretty much the opposite. I don't know where that bubbly girl in the chariots came from, but you can work with that. The Capitol is shallow, Genesis! They eat up the good-looking tributes. And if you don't even have any friends –"

"I have friends," I interrupt.

"Oh really? Who?"

"Devera," I say.

"And?"

"Jocelyn…but she's…"

"Jocelyn Spires?" Johanna asks.

I nod, staring at the floor.

She doesn't say anything for a while.

"Point is," she eventually says, bringing me up from my Jocelyn-induced nostalgia, "people aren't drawn to you. Not normal people anyway."

I snort. "_Thanks._"

She continues like I'd never interrupted. "So you can't just be yourself for people to like you. You're relatively quiet, deep, scarred from your best friend's death, sarcastic, tomboyish, boring, and you have quite the temper. You're cold, defensive, and people find it almost impossible to get through to you. That won't bring you sponsors. Instead, if you act like a shallow, girly, giggly supermodel, you'll get loads of sponsors. And that's what this is all about. Sponsors."

"But shallow girly giggly supermodels aren't that interesting," I protest. "There's nothing more to them than looks and boys."

"Is there anything more to the Capitol than looks and the opposite sex?" Johanna raises an eyebrow and I don't reply. She's right. "The only time that you're allowed to drop that angle a little is when Caesar asks about Jaka, and don't worry he _will_ ask about Jaka. Stop giggling and word it so that the audience starts crying. It doesn't take much to make a Capitolite crowd cry. They'll be tripping over their ridiculously tall shoes to sponsor you."

I'm beginning to see her logic. That doesn't mean I like it, though.

But after a few more minutes of logical arguments I eventually give in, knowing that she's right. I'm just going to have to pull it off. "Fine," I say resignedly.

Johanna smirks. "Good," she says. "Now here are some questions that Caesar might ask."

* * *

"Why hello there Genesis!"

I don't even bother to hold in my sigh as Perrie bursts into the room, followed by a scowling Ender and a softly smiling Kim.

"You are going to look _beautiful_!" Perrie exclaims, drawing out the vowels in _beautiful._ "Not that you aren't already beautiful of course," she hurriedly amends, but I'm hardly offended. "A tattoo would be real nice, right here, just a small one…" she traces a hand along my jaw.

Kim lays a hand on her companion's arm. "No tattoos, Perrie," she says softly. I give her a grateful smile as Perrie disappointedly lowers her arm and turns to the makeup.

_Thanks,_ I mouth to her.

_No problem,_ she replies.

For the next couple of hours I am subjected to their makeover. I don't say a word, and neither does Ender. Kim occasionally speaks so as not to offend Perrie, who has been chattering non-stop the whole time, but for the most part she's silent as well.

I can't say that I'm sad to see them go when Scarlett comes in and takes their place. She's still as creepily red and predator-like as she was at the Opening Ceremonies – I haven't seen her or Jaka's stylist since then. They don't eat with us. Johanna says that normally they do, but this year they've stayed away. I wonder why.

"Close your eyes," Scarlett tells me, and I comply.

I feel her slide something over me. It's soft and silky.

"Open your eyes," she tells me, and I obey.

She turns me to face the mirror and my lips curve up into a smile, impressed. I look beautiful. The dress is a shimmery blue-grey fabric, the grey matching my eyes. The sleeves are a translucent blue fabric that are only about an inch long. The dress itself comes down to mid-thigh and has a blue fabric belt wrapped around my torso under my breastbone.

Scarlett hands me a pair of grey-blue elbow-length gloves the same colour and fabric of the dress. I pull them on. They're as soft as the dress. She helps me step into light blue three-inch heels with silver glitter on them.

Scarlett is apparently a hair stylist as well, for she does up my hair with master fingers into a tight high ponytail that she lets hang over my right shoulder with a braid across my hairline like a headband. As I turn this way and that in the light my skin and hair shimmer like the dress.

I look, and feel, like a goddess.

"Come," Scarlett says, taking my gloved hand. "It's time."

She leads me out of the room. We meet up with Jaka and his stylist. He looks dashing in his sky-blue suit, his rust-coloured hair spiked up.

I nudge him as we start walking towards the elevator.

"Bet Ariadne will like it," I whisper.

He hits my shoulder. "Bet Jared will like _that_," he responds, gesturing to my dress.

That shuts me up.

We're some of the first tributes down there. Ariadne and Decimus are there; the two from 3 are there; and the two from 4 are there. I ignore Telia's glare as I walk over to Ariadne with Jaka. Decimus is with Taylor and Telia.

"You look nice," Jaka comments as we reach the blonde girl.

She smiles. "So do you," she says. She then looks up at me. Something flickers in her gaze but it's gone and replaced by a warm smile before I can identify it. "Hello, Genesis," she says, inclining her head politely.

"Ariadne." I incline my head back before turning away.

We stand in silence for a while, watching the other tributes file in. District 10. District 6. District 11. When Vera and her companion arrive, they come over to us, and Jaka and the boy start talking quietly. I tune out of their conversation. I don't want to learn his name.

But as District 2 walks in, I can't help but continue to stare. Jared looks so…handsome, that I simply can't tear my eyes away from him. He's in a silver suit that shimmers with the light, and it fits his large, muscular frame perfectly.

So when he turns and looks at me, he catches me staring.

I turn away quickly, embarrassed, but I continue to feel his gaze on me. I peek at him from under my glittery lashes. He makes a small gesture with his hand. Beckoning me. He wants me to go over to him.

I glance over my shoulder. There's no one behind me but my alliance. And they haven't even noticed him.

I turn back to him. His dark eyes are focused on me, and he's still making that small gesture. He's walked a small distance away from the other Careers. They hadn't even noticed him leave. He's now standing alone.

_Go on,_ Jocelyn's voice giggles.

_I should probably be in a mental hospital. Hearing voices of the dead and all,_ I think to myself before taking a deep breath and walking over to the hulking Career.

He smirks when he realises that I'm coming. He lets his hand drop to his side. I feel self-conscious beneath his dark scrutiny, and I fidget with my gloves as I walk over to him.

I stop a few paces away from him. He stares at me coolly. He leans against the wall and folds his arms.

"You don't seem to have made your decision," he says coolly.

I stare at him. What decision?

"About me," he clarifies. "You know, the one I asked you to make after the…" he smirks and lowers his voice, "kiss."

Did I just speak aloud?

"It seems to be a habit," he says, his smirk growing in amusement.

I scowl at him. "Me speaking my thoughts aloud is _not_ funny," I growl, and he spreads his hands out, palms facing me, in a gesture of surrender.

"I never said it was," he says. His amusement fades. "You haven't made your decision," he repeats.

"I don't even know what you want me to choose between," I say. "You and Jaka? Live or die? Because if you think that I'm going to choose you over Jaka then you're delusional."

He pushes off the wall and steps closer to me. I feel my heartbeat speed up. A warmth creeps over my cheeks and I realise, with a certain degree of horror, that it's a blush. There are now only a few inches between us. He stretches out his arm and rests it against the wall, leaning on it, blocking the way between me and my alliance.

"I never asked you to choose between anything," he says softly.

"Then what were you asking?"

He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "We only have a few days to live," he whispers. "And I intend to spend them with you, Genesis."

I step away from him. "You'll kill me," I say uneasily.

He gives me a disbelieving look. "I can kill anyone," he says, his voice turning into a bit of a growl. "I can kill my whole alliance. I can kill _your_ whole alliance. I can kill a twelve-year-old without feeling anything but satisfaction." He steps closer to me and I instinctively step back. He lifts up a hand and gently fingers the end of my ponytail. "But you…" he pauses. "Whenever I think about killing you – about anyone killing you – I feel like I'm dying too," he says. "I've made my decision. And my decision is you. What is yours? I'm not asking you to choose between me and your brother. I'm asking you to make our last days on this world as happy as they can be. Because I know that you love me, too, even if you haven't admitted it to yourself. And…" he drops his hand. "People are always happier when they're with the person they love."

"Aren't you happy though?" I ask softly. "I thought all Careers were happy to be here."

He sighs. "I've never been happy," he continues. "Never been free. The Games has been my entire existence. I thought that I was happy. I thought that I was over the moon when I became a tribute. But it's only when I met you that I realised that my life has been missing something all along. You."

I stare at him. Where has this speech come from? Because although it's certainly swept me off my feet, it's confused me, too. It's all too much to think about, too much to bear. I can't make a decision like that. Not now. Especially not now. I've already got enough on my plate; I don't need romance to be thrown in as well.

I'm saved answering by a Capitol attendant.

"Tributes!" she claps her hands. "Get into line, we'll be live in five!"

I give one last glance at Jared before ducking under his arm and back to my alliance.

I don't see the hurt that flashes in his eyes as I do so.

"What was that?" Vera asks in her high, girlish voice as I come to a stop in front of them.

"Bloody Careers," I mutter under my breath, and turn away, refusing to answer any more questions.

Five minutes later it's time to go onto the stage. We all file onstage to the cheering of the crowd. There are twenty-four seats behind the two throne-like chairs for Caesar and the interviewee; I take my place in my seat between Jaka and the boy from 6 and look out at the crowd, a beaming and completely fake smile on my face.

Caesar bounds onto the stage. This year his hair, lips and eye makeup are a shocking lemon yellow.

He gets the crowd warmed up with a few jokes before he introduces Lorelei, the girl from 1. She walks up to the stage, a simpering smile on her face, in a white dress that is obviously going for sexy. She walks with confidence and grace, and the cheering for her is deafening.

Riley, her district partner, is in a dark blue tux and his angle is a ruthless, eager killer. The crowd cheers for him just as much, if not more, as Lorelei.

Astraea is cunning and mysterious. It works perfectly for her.

I lean forward slightly as her buzzer goes and Caesar introduces Jared.

"So, Jared," says Caesar, "how do you like the Capitol?"

"It's amazing," Jared says. "It's such an honour to be here."

"It's an honour to have you," Caesar says. "So are you looking forward to the Games?"

_What a sick question,_ I think. But Jared answers, an answer typical of one from a Career district, without even batting an eyelid.

"Of course," he says. "I've been waiting for this my entire life."

"We all look forward to seeing you," Caesar says, "don't we, folks?"

The crowd roars its approval.

Soon, after a few more questions about the Capitol and District 2, Caesar asks the inevitable question that he asks of all the half-attractive tributes.

"So Jared," Caesar says slyly, "there's one question that we've all been absolutely _dying_ to know."

"Oh? What's that, Caesar?"

"We're all wondering," Caesar says, "is there a special girl back home?"

Jared smiles in what seems to be embarrassment. He shifts awkwardly as he shakes his head, sighing. I'm shocked to see a slight blush colouring his cheeks. "No," he says, "no, no girl waiting for me back home."

"I don't believe it for a second!" Caesar says good-naturedly. "Handsome boy like you, surely you must have at least one girl vying for your attention."

"Oh, I'm not short of admirers," Jared smirks arrogantly. "But none of them have really caught my eye."

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest at his words. Does that mean that he's given up on me already? Had he been lying before? Why do I feel so disappointed?

"At least not at home."

I freeze, my eyes riveted to the interview happening on the stage. The whole crowd goes silent.

"Not at home?" Caesar inquires. "Why, is there a girl here in the Capitol that's caught your eye?"

Jared doesn't say anything. His silence says it all as he bites his lip and avoids looking at Caesar.

"There is!" Caesar crows triumphantly. "Who is it?"

Jared doesn't answer again.

"C'mon, you can tell us. We won't tell anybody," Caesar prompts.

Jared opens his mouth to answer but at that moment the buzzer goes. Jared looks incredibly relieved at the interruption. Caesar looks disappointed.

"Well, that's that, I guess, folks," he says. "Jared Waters, from District 2!" the crowd roars its approval.

I follow Jared's hulking figure with my eyes as he walks back to his seat. As he goes he turns his head slightly. He looks right at me. It's only for a second, but that one look conveys more than any number of words ever could.

I barely pay attention to the interviews from District 3. I half-listen to the ones from 4, but they're both the same; arrogant, sexy and ruthless.

I don't listen to Vera's interview, or her district partner's. I'm only half paying attention to the ones from District 6; I don't want to miss my cue.

Luckily, I don't. I'm attentive when Caesar calls my name.

I stand up gracefully and make my way over to him, smiling brilliantly. He takes my hand and kisses it as I reach him.

"Genesis, what a delight," he says.

I nod, smiling as we sit down. "Thank you, Caesar," I say, "but trust me, the delight is all mine."

"I highly doubt that. Anywhere would be honoured to have you, Genesis!"

I giggle, batting my hand at him. "Oh, stop it," I simper. "You're making me blush."

"Quite the achievement," Caesar inclines his head. "So, Genesis…how are you liking the Capitol? Enjoying the food?"

"Oh, the Capitol is amazing," I rave. "Oh, and the food is simply delicious! Especially chocolate. I'd never even tasted chocolate ever before coming to the Capitol. It is now my favourite food!"

"Mine too, Genesis, mine too," Caesar says. "So, let's talk about training. A ten! How was that achieved?"

"Oh, I think that's a secret," I say, smiling apologetically. The crowd boos.

"Oh, well, rules are rules I guess," Caesar sighs. "But that's not the only question that's playing on everyone's minds."

Here it comes. "Oh? What do people want to know, Caesar?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. "We all want to know," he says, "other than Jaka, is there a guy in your life?"

I look out at the crowd. I find Johanna sitting with the mentors. She gives me a small nod and I look back at Caesar.

"Well," I say, smiling slightly, "I do have another brother. He's twelve." The crowd laughs.

"How many brothers do you have?" Caesar jokes.

I laugh. "Just the two," I say. "And trust me, they're the only guys in my life."

"I don't believe you," Caesar says light-heartedly. "Surely one guy has caught your attention?"

Chocolate-brown eyes flash across my mind's eye.

"Well," I say slowly, and Caesar leans forward. "There is this one guy…"

"What's his name?" Caesar presses. "Is he from home? At the Capitol?"

I tap my nose. "I do have my secrets, Caesar," I say sweetly.

"Aw," Caesar says, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Please?" he pouts like a little child denied something they want.

"I think we'll have to move onto another topic," I laugh.

Caesar sighs. "I suppose so," he says. "So…how do you feel going into the arena with your brother?"

I pause.

"Well…it's not the best feeling," I eventually say, "obviously. But I'm making sure that he's going home. He means everything to me."

"Aww," Caesar says sadly, and for a moment I can believe that he actually feels sorry for me.

I look out at the crowd. A lot of them are crying, and yelling that they're rooting for us. Mission accomplished.

"We're with you every step of the way," Caesar says, sounding so sincere that yet again I almost believe him. But then I mentally hit myself. This is the Capitol. They would no sooner actually feel sorry for us than call off the Games.

I'm glad when my buzzer goes off a second later.

Caesar tells me it was a pleasure to have me before I walk back down to my seat. He then introduces Jaka.

I give Jaka's hand a quick squeeze as we pass each other on the way back to my seat.

I can only hope that he doesn't screw this up.


	11. Chapter 11: My Last Night of Freedom

Chapter 11 – My Last Night of Freedom

I fold my arms tightly across my chest as I sit back down. I think I did well in my interview. I just hope that I've gained some sponsors from it.

I sniff haughtily as Jaka starts his interview. It's obvious from the get-go that he's going for likeable and funny, and he pulls it off marvellously. It probably helps that he's already funny and likeable; he doesn't have to act. People can't help but be drawn to Jaka.

Like with me and almost every other half-attractive tribute, Caesar eventually asks Jaka if he has anyone special waiting for him; back home, here, or anywhere. He replies like I did.

"The only girl in my life is Genesis," he says. "She's the best big sister ever."

I have to smile at that. The crowd obviously thinks it's sweet too, as I hear several "Awws". They obviously like the whole sibling thing.

Caesar laughs. "Cute," he says.

Jaka gives a cheesy grin.

"But are you sure that Genesis is the only girl in your life?" Caesar prods.

Jaka opens his mouth to answer but hesitates. It takes him a few seconds to answer. "I'm not about to reveal my love life to the whole of Panem, Caesar," he laughs. "You know the drill, you tell, I tell. So who's your leading lady then Caesar?" Jaka leans forward with his chin resting in his hand, blue eyes wide and curious.

Caesar laughs. "I'm afraid that's a secret, Jaka," he says.

"Aww."

"Moving on, then," Caesar says. "You, like your sister, got an uncommonly high score for a lower district. Care to tell us about it?"

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to answer like my sister and say that it's a secret," Jaka inclines his head. "Sorry."

The crowd boos.

"Aw, what a pity," Caesar pouts.

The interview goes on in this manner. The crowd loves Jaka, and he sticks to his angle. He gets the crowd in tears when he talks about going into the arena with me, like I had. He plays his angle well, and by the time his buzzer goes the crowd is cheering a lot louder for him than they did for me.

I'm relieved.

"Good job," I whisper to him, squeezing his hand as he sits back down.

He lets out a breath. "Thanks," he whispers back. "Do you think they liked me?"

I snort. "Jaka, they loved you," I reply before turning back to the stage. It's Ariadne's turn.

She pulls off the shy but sexy angle well. She's certainly pretty enough for it. She gives off the girl-next-door impression, and the audience quite likes it, judging by their cheers.

I lean over and nudge Jaka. "Stop staring," I whisper. "It's embarrassing."

He turns and glares at me, hitting my shoulder as he does so.

It's exactly the same thing he'd said to me that first day at training when I'd been shamelessly staring at Jared, who'd been shirtless and besting the hand-to-hand combat trainer.

_Jared._ I look over at him, seated next to the girl from 3 and his district partner, Astraea. He's staring blankly into space, a thoughtful expression on his face. Yet again, I can't seem to tear my gaze from him. I've never had a boyfriend before, so I don't know what it feels like. I've been kissed, of course, but I hadn't dated the guy.

But Jared isn't my boyfriend. He never will be. Boyfriends are supposed to be long-lasting things, relationships that last for at least a couple of months; sweet kisses, dinner with the parents, romantic dates by candlelight, holding hands, cuddling… We're going into the arena tomorrow, a place of death and insanity. There is only one winner, and it won't be either one of us. He'll be with the Careers hunting and murdering tributes. I'll be with my weak little alliance, trying desperately to avoid the Careers and driving each other crazy.

Why does he want me to make a decision about him? Why is he so desperate for me to agree to put my guard down for him? If I want, I'll never have to see him ever again; well, talk to him, since I will probably see him at the bloodbath tomorrow, and possibly later during the Games.

I sure hope not. Because if I do, he won't be alone and I'll be dead before I can say 'yes' or 'no'.

I still can't trust him. He's a Career for goodness' sake, from District 2 no less; a murderous killing machine from the Capitol lapdog district is the last kind of person that I'd be looking for a romantic attachment with.

But why me? We have nothing in common. He's a murderer from District 2. I'm a woodcutter from District 7. We're going into the Hunger Games. Is he lying? Is he pulling off the sweet angle just so that I'll let my guard down? Is he in it for my body? Is _that_ why he picked me?

I shuddered.

But then again, if he wanted a girl for her body, then he'd no doubt be chasing Telia, not me. I'm pretty, but she's simply a supermodel.

I suddenly feel a rush of unexplained hatred that has nothing to do with the Games directed towards the caramel-skinned beauty from District 4. I'm not familiar with the feeling. I can understand why I'd hate her when it has to do with the arena; she'll be out to kill me from tomorrow onwards.

But I can't understand what this specific feeling is. Whenever I think of her and Jared together, standing intimately, holding hands, kissing…it makes me hate her. So much more than if I think about her trying to kill me in the next few days.

Is it…jealousy?

_You like him,_ Jocelyn's voice states bluntly. I don't know why I keep hearing a voice in my head that sounds like Jocelyn's voice. Is it just my subconscious, talking to me in the form of my late best friend, or am I actually going crazy?

I realise that I don't know which one it is.

By the time I've stopped my musing, Decimus' interview is almost over. I hadn't noticed Ariadne come off, and Decimus go up. Wow. I must've been really out of it.

I'm quite tired by the time the interviews finish, having to sit straight-backed for a little over an hour, my legs crossed at the ankles and a blank expression on my face.

I'm glad when it's over.

I walk behind Jaka off the stage amidst the cheers of the crowd. We split off from the line of tributes and go over to where Silva, Johanna, Stephanie, Scarlett and Jaka's stylist are waiting. They all look happy or at least relieved.

"How did I do?" I ask Johanna when we reach her.

She sniffs. "Okay," she says.

Silva overhears the exchange and rolls his eyes. He surprises me by pulling me into a hug. "You did brilliantly," he says. "We'll be fighting off sponsors with a stick."

* * *

Dinner that night is yet again a quiet affair. Silva is talking with Stephanie, if only to appease her need for chatter. Silva is for the most part a man of few words; I can't imagine him willingly holding a conversation with our chatty escort unless he felt sorry for her about how out of place she is amongst us from the districts.

Neither Jaka nor I watch the recaps of the interviews. Instead we wordlessly retreat to our separate rooms to wallow in our separate misery.

I sit on my bed staring at the painting of the night sky on the wall. I wish I was in that painting. There are no people – not that I can see anyway – and certainly no Capitol. No Hunger Games.

Just the night sky.

I lay back down on my bed, staring up at the canopy. Tonight is my last night of freedom. Tomorrow I go into the arena. This may be the last time I see the moon.

With that thought in mind I swing my legs off my bed and walk over to the window. I press a button on a remote so that the window is projecting a vision of the night sky. It looks different to the one in the painting; it looks more like the night sky I see back in District 7. Bright stars, even brighter moon. If you were used to it the night could almost be as light as day, especially on the night of a full moon.

I eventually turn away from the window, pressing the button again to make it look back out at the Capitol.

In the bathroom I take a shower, washing off all the makeup and glitter and throwing Scarlett's pretty creation to the floor.

I come out red-raw from all the scrubbing, but I don't care. I remember the blow-drying option this time, and I press the appropriate button, and I'm dry in seconds.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I walk over to the mirror. I've parted my hair so it hangs over both shoulders.

It's too long. It annoys me when it's down like this. My father likes for me to keep it this long; he was always averse to having it cut. But I won't ever see him again.

I guess it's time for it to go.

Using the room-service order, I order a steak; a knife comes with the steak. I take the knife and return to the bathroom.

I hold the left side of my hair up horizontally. I stare at it. Should I really do it? My long hair has been a part of me since it grew past my shoulders. I haven't ever gotten it cut.

But it will do nothing but hinder me in the arena.

Without thinking about it anymore, I slice the blade across my hair and let the silky strands fall to the ground. My hair on the left side only barely goes past my shoulders now.

I do the same to the other side.

It's uneven and jagged. Messy. I look different with the shorter hair. It doesn't go with my elegant features as much as my long hair did. But short hair will be more convenient in the arena than long hair will be.

I don't bother to neaten it up. It doesn't matter anymore. It'll just be tied back anyway.

I quickly clean up the hair that has fallen to the ground, throwing it in the bin and placing the knife back next to the uneaten steak, which is steaming. I throw the entire tray in the garbage chute before falling back down on my bed, sighing.

I can't bring myself to regret cutting my hair; it always annoyed me anyway, now it'll just be easier to manage.

I burrow under my covers of my too-comfortable Capitol bed, burying myself in the silky sheets, the soft mattress, the several plush pillows. It's dark under my sheets, and rather stuffy.

I throw the covers off me and sit up, holding my head in my hands. I feel like I'm about to hyperventilate.

I'm saved by a soft knock on the door.

I stare at the door. I know who it is. Only one person would be seeking me out at midnight the night before the Games.

"Come in, Jaka," I say softly, and the door opens and my little brother slips into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Geni?" he asks quietly. "Can I stay with you?"

He sounds seven again. Whenever he'd used to have a nightmare, he'd always come and snuggle up next to me, and apparently I chased the monsters away. I thought he'd grown out of it, but under the circumstances, I guess not.

I shuffle over, patting the spot beside me.

"Come here," I whisper, and he comes over and climbs in next to me.

I pull the covers back up and gather him into my arms. I feel more at peace now that he is with me.

"Gen?" he says quietly.

"Yes, Jaka?" I ask softly, absently stroking his hair.

"I'm scared."

I sigh. "I'm scared too, baby brother," I say quietly, "but I'll protect you. Until my last breath."

"Don't talk like that," he whispers.

I snuggle in closer to him. "Okay," I whisper, and we fall asleep like that, cocooned in each other's embrace, taking comfort from each other on our last night of freedom before the arena.

**Okay, so the Games start next chapter! Wow, I can't believe we're up to the Games already. Your reviews keep me writing, so please review! :D**


	12. Chapter 12: The Beginning of the End

**Okay so I just realised that Scarlett and Jaka's stylist have not been living with the tributes...I apologise, this was a minor error on my part and will be addressed...ish...in this chapter. Also, this chapter is dedicated to one of my loyal reviewers who has reviewed every single chapter, seanthesheep356, go check out her stories especially A Second Chance. :) Now on with the chapter:**

Chapter 12 – The Beginning of the End

Before I am fully awake I sense another presence curled up next to me. I tense, sitting up straight and staring down at the rust-coloured curls of Jaka.

Damn it. I'm getting paranoid already.

Sighing, I lie back down and put my arms around Jaka again. Unconsciously he snuggles in closer to me. I stroke his hair absently, wondering about today.

The Games start today. Today Jaka and I will be separated and flown to the arena. Put into Launch Rooms with our stylists. Eat our last meal. Drink our last cup of water. Change into arena clothes. Be lifted up in a tube into the arena.

Sixty seconds. We have sixty seconds to get our bearings before the gong goes off and the bloodbath begins.

I shudder just at the thought of it. I could be dead within a few hours. Jaka could be too.

I don't know how long I stay there, lying awake and thinking about the Games. It must be a while, because by the time I'm finally aware of things again light is streaming through the windows and Stephanie is rapping on the door. It had been dark before.

Jaka moves slightly and I look down at him. He's just waking up. His mouth opens up in a yawn and then he stretches, opening his eyes.

"Morning," he says.

"Hi," I reply. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've had since the reaping."

I smile, because it's true for me too.

"We should probably get up," I say in response to Stephanie's impatient rapping on the door.

Jaka nods regretfully and rolls out of bed, taking the sheets and me with him.

Before I can get a grip on anything I've tumbled off the bed after him, in a mass of soft sheets and tangled limbs. Our laughter fills the room.

"Genesis?"

I hear the door open and Stephanie's heels as she walks in.

"Oh Howards," she says, shaking her head and tutting disapprovingly.

We manage to stop laughing and look up at her.

"Sorry, Stephanie," I say. "We sort of…fell."

Stephanie rolls her eyes, tossing her head and peering down at us. "Well, it's time for breakfast," she says. "Johanna and Silva are already up."

As soon as she leaves we quickly quiet, as things don't seem so funny anymore. I don't know why that was so hilarious; I guess we're both just a little funny from the nerves. And the fear.

Slowly we extract ourselves from the mess we've found ourselves in. I'm the first to get free. I stand up and wordlessly outstretch a hand for Jaka. He takes it and I pull him up.

Stephanie seems to be impatient today, as she's back before we can move, leaning into the room and saying, "Johanna's getting quite impatient, Genesis and Jaka. She said...quote...'shove your fear where the sun don't shine and come join us for breakfast.' She was quite rude."

"Be right there," Jaka mutters and Stephanie eyes us disbelievingly for a second before clacking off down the hallway.

Jaka and I exchange a glance once she's gone.

"Let's go before Johanna bites our heads off," I mutter, and lead the way to the dining room.

The table is silent as we eat. I hold Jaka's hand, providing wordless support, as we try to force down some toast.

Silva's the first one to notice my new haircut.

"Genesis," he says slowly, "what've you done to your hair?" he picks up a length of my jagged, uneven hair and holds it up, an eyebrow raised. Everyone turns to me.

I glare at him, slapping his hand down. "I cut it," I snap.

"Why?" Stephanie asks, sounding aghast. "It was absolutely beautiful before!"

"I don't give a damn about beauty," I say to her, "especially since I'll be going into the arena today. Shorter hair is easier to manage."

No one talks after that, not wanting to provoke my anger again, explosive this morning before the Games. Wise people.

Scarlett and Jaka's stylist appear halfway through breakfast. They sit down and begin eating.

"Where have you two been the last couple of days?" Johanna asks.

Scarlett looks up from her coffee and gives Johanna a look. Johanna looks confused for a second before a look of understanding dawns on her face and she nods slightly.

"Oh," she says, "oh, I understand."

I look at them both, wondering what that was. Where have Scarlett and Jaka's stylist been?

But I'm wise enough not to question it. I simply look back down at my toast and take a sip of my hot chocolate.

After breakfast has been eaten Scarlett takes me back to my room. She hands me a simple shift to change into and I wordlessly do so.

"It's time," she says softly, and smiles a little before leading me up to the roof.

A hovercraft is waiting there. A ladder for me to grab onto. As soon as I do I feel an electric current go through my body and I'm frozen in place. The ladder lifts me up and before I'm released from frozen state a woman in white comes over to me and injects something into my arm.

"Your tracker," she says before leaving the small room.

I'm released from the current. I stagger over to a chair, holding my aching arm that has just had the tracker injected into it to my chest with my other arm. I topple into the chair with a sigh and put my head in my hands.

I soon feel someone sit down next to me and put their hand on my shoulder. I know it's Scarlett.

I feel the hovercraft lift off. I look up and stare out the windows. Scarlett doesn't speak, just provides wordless support.

I turn away from the windows when they black out. That just means that we're near the arena.

I turn back to Scarlett. She's staring off into space, her hand still absently on my shoulder. She's wearing a figure-hugging short red dress – the same one she wore the first time I saw her.

"Scarlett," I say curiously, and she turns to me. "Why are you always wearing that dress?"

She smiles and rolls her eyes. "I've got about twenty of these. All identical," she chuckles. "It's a part of my identity. I'm Scarlett. I can't go walking around in blue, now can I?"

I snort quietly and turn away.

The Launch Room beneath the arena is clean and white. I'm the only tribute that'll ever step into this room, as the arenas are only used once. The next people that will come in here will be tourists; Capitolites who take a tour of previous arenas, sometimes even recreate the deaths.

I shudder.

"Here," Scarlett says, holding out my arena clothes. She has had no say in these; this is the first time she's seeing them as well.

She helps me slip into them. Comfy black trousers. A sleeveless light brown tank top. A hooded black jacket. Sturdy brown belt. Comfortable boots much like my work ones at home over skin-tight socks.

"It's designed to reflect body heat," Scarlett says about the jacket. "Expect some cold nights, and hot days. Muggy. Maybe the arena will be a swamp of some sort."

I swallow nervously. This is all making it so much more real.

"You have your token?" she asks softly.

Oh. I'd forgotten about my token. I hold my wrist up, showing Scarlett the pretty bracelet that Jai had given to me. _"Jaka was going to give it to you for your birthday," _he'd said. _"He wanted me to give it to you."_

I find myself sighing as I think of my birthday. If I survive that long, then my birthday will be on the ninth day in the arena. I may not live to see my eighteenth birthday.

"It's pretty," she says quietly, taking my hand in both of hers and examining it.

"My brother's friend Jai gave it to me," I reply, just as quietly, "Jaka wanted to give it to me for my birthday."

She smiles sadly at me. She drops my hand and surprises me by pulling me into a hug.

Quick, practised fingers tie my hair up in a ponytail. It only tickles my shoulders now. It's a new feeling, but at least it won't be bothering me so much now.

"Good luck, Genesis," she says, just as a pleasant female voice announces that it's time for launch.

I feel myself start to shake. My heart starts pounding against my ribcage and my breathing starts to come in short, sharp gasps.

"You know what to do," Scarlett whispers. "Go out there Genesis. Kill it." She chuckles quietly at the reality of that saying in this situation.

I take a deep breath before walking slowly over to the plate that will rise me up into the arena.

Scarlett doesn't say anything as the glass is lowered around me. I keep my grey gaze locked on her red ones for as long as possible as my metal plate starts to rise.

For about fifteen seconds I'm in darkness before all of a sudden I'm blinded by bright sunlight. Squinting, my eyes quickly adjust to the sudden bright light. And then, the voice of the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, is ringing out all over the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-first Hunger Games begin!"

The first thing I do as the countdown begins is look around. Behind the Cornucopia, on the other side of the circle of tributes, there is a large lake. To my right, left and back, there is forest; large, marshy trees, knee-high grass and vines hanging all over the place. The only short, cropped grass is in the field where we are now; the Cornucopia field.

My scrutiny of the arena complete, I look around at the tributes. The girl from 1, Lorelei, is on my right. The girl from 3 is on my left. I don't know her name. Whereas Lorelei looks eager and excited, the poor girl from the technology district looks terrified. I can see her shaking from here.

Jaka is three tributes to my right; Lorelei, a tribute girl I don't know the name of, and Decimus from 8 are between us. I don't care about the rest of our alliance. Not here. Not now. I may have cared before, but right now, with thirty seconds until the gong rings, actually in the arena, all I care about it Jaka. He must make it out of the bloodbath. He must survive.

_20._

I catch Jaka's eye. I jerk my head backwards, indicating for him to go that way. He frowns but nods. I nod back, satisfied, before turning back to the Cornucopia.

_15._

There is only one axe that I can see. It's right in the mouth of the Cornucopia, leaning against the side with a large backpack right next to it.

I set my sights on those two items. I can do this. I'm strong, I'm fast. I'm a woodcutter. If I just sprint there, grab them and sprint back, then I'll be fine. I'll be gone before the Careers are even off their plates.

_10._

I can pick up some items on the way. About four metres away from me there is a water bottle. Probably empty. About twelve metres away from me is a small backpack. Probably with not much in it.

_9._

Gong. Run. Water bottle. Small backpack. Axe. Large backpack. Turn. Run. With those items these Games will be over before they've even started.

_8._

Focus, Genesis. Calm. Slow breathing. _In, out, in, out…_

_7._

I look back towards Jaka. He's turned so he's facing away from the Cornucopia, ready to run back the direction I asked him to. I nod in satisfaction. He can't be anywhere near the Cornucopia when the bloodbath starts.

_6._

Ignore the other tributes. All there is, is my path. Water bottle. Small backpack. Axe. Large backpack. It's imprinted in my mind. It can't go wrong.

_5._

Five seconds left.

_4._

Almost time.

_3._

Do it for Jaka.

_2._

Two seconds.

_1._

_GONG!_

**Haha, cliff-hanger! Don't you just love 'em? **


	13. Chapter 13: Let the Games Begin

Chapter 13 – Let the Games Begin

I race off my plate as fast as I can. One leg in front of the other. Arms pumping. Left, right, left, right, left –

I stumble and fall as something tackles me from behind. I hear an animalistic shriek of glee as I tumble to the ground.

It's Lorelei. She's tackling me. Preventing me from getting to the Cornucopia. With the intent of killing me.

"That was only too easy," she says, curling her lip as she easily pins me to the ground, straddling my stomach and wrapping her hands around my throat.

I gasp for air as she starts laughing. I wrap my hands around her own, trying to pry them from around my neck.

_I'm going to die, _I think.

"I really don't know how you got that ten in training," Lorelei laughs, "or why Telia thinks you're such a threat. You're pathetic!"

I gasp for air, digging my nails into Lorelei's hands, but she just tightens her grip.

A gleeful smile spreads across her face as she bashes my head onto the ground. Pain spreads through my body like wildfire as black spots start to cloud my vision, whether from the blow or the lack of air or both I'm not sure.

All of a sudden Lorelei's weight is knocked off me. I sit up, gasping for air, my vision clearing, and turn to her to see what just happened.

There's a knife embedded in her shoulder. Someone saved me.

I scramble up, looking around wildly. All I can see is death. Blood. Murder. All I can hear is screams. Weapons slicing through flesh. Bodies thumping to the ground. Laughter. The Careers laugh while they kill.

I can't risk going straight into the mouth of the Cornucopia, but the water bottle is practically at my feet and the small backpack is only a couple of metres away. I scoop up the water bottle and quickly grab the backpack. No one is around me. Lorelei is gone; everyone else is fighting near the Cornucopia. I have a chance to run.

And run I do.

I sprint in the direction I motioned for Jaka to go. He's waiting, hiding behind one of the trees. I gasp when his arm flies out to stop me, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it's just him.

"C'mon," he says, and begins pulling me deeper into the marshy forest. "Vera and Ariadne went this way."

He pulls me in the direction our allies supposedly went. I wonder where the boy from 5 is. I did notice how he didn't include him. Perhaps he died in the bloodbath and is lying spread-eagled on the ground with blood seeping out of his body.

Probably.

We run through the marshy forest, hindered by the knee-length grass, which trips us up from time to time, and whenever one of us falls the other falls too, as he's still gripping my hand so hard I'm pretty sure it's purple.

But I can't find it in myself to care.

Running on fear and adrenaline, it takes us a while to slow our pace. But when we do, it's almost an hour later and I call Jaka to a stop, breathing heavily, exhausted from all the running and the shaking fear. We still haven't found our allies.

"Where are they?" I ask, panting.

He takes a little while to answer, still catching his breath. "I don't know," he gasps. "I guess we just keep going."

I nod, and gently loosen his grip on my hand, as I'm only now starting to register the pain.

"C'mon," I say, "we'll walk for a while."

He nods and we walk for about half an hour in silence. My small backpack is hanging off one of my shoulders, and I'm gripping the water bottle in my right hand, the hand that is not holding Jaka's.

After a while he speaks. "How far away from the Cornucopia d'you think we are?" he asks.

I shrug. "Dunno," I say, "we were running pretty fast for about an hour before. Maybe a couple of k's?" it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

"Oh," he says, "so we can have a rest soon?" he looks up at me hopefully.

I stare down at him. "Let's see if we can find Ariadne and the two from five first," I say, "if we haven't found them in an hour then we can have a rest."

He nods, and looks down at the ground.

About ten minutes later I suddenly jump as the sound of the cannon that signifies a tribute is dead resounds around the arena. The bloodbath must be over. The Gamemakers only fire the cannons for the bloodbath once it's over. Otherwise it would be too confusing and impossible to keep track.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_ Seven cannons. Seven dead. That's a surprisingly small amount of tributes dead in the bloodbath. Usually it's between eight and fourteen that die on the first day.

But this only means that I'll have more competitors to eliminate.

"Let's rest," I say, tugging Jaka to a stop and sitting down on a log that's fallen across the ground. There are several fallen trees around the arena. We found one almost every five minutes.

He doesn't complain. He just sits down next to me and puts his head in his hands.

I swing my backpack off my shoulder, setting my water bottle down on the log beside me. I open up the backpack and peer inside.

A small packet of beef jerky. Rope. A thin blanket. Two boxes of matches. I check inside the boxes of matches. I make a disbelieving sound when I see that one of them is empty; just the box.

Shaking my head slightly, I stow the goodies back in the bag, carefully placing the beef jerky in the front pocket of the bag and putting the water bottle I picked up in there as well. It's empty, as I'd predicted. We need to find water. Especially with two of us. We won't last more than a couple of days without water. Less. Water's suddenly become our best friend.

"Any water?" Jaka croaks, finally looking up from his former position, with his head buried in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees.

I feel terrible, telling him no, seeing his hopeful face turn to one of disappointment, and seeing him go back to his depressed position.

I sigh, putting the straps back over my shoulders.

We don't rest for long. I eventually stand up, telling him we should get moving again. He doesn't take my hand though; he just walks dejectedly beside me, staring at the ground.

We're getting into the thicker part of the forest. I'm wishing that I had some kind of blade so that I could cut through the grass, which is a little above knee height now, and through all the vines that hang down, which we constantly have to push out of the way. I don't even want to think about what may be hiding beneath the grass; quicksand, snakes, insects, or, even worse, mutts.

Muttations, or mutts for short, are genetically created creatures made in the laboratories of the Capitol. It's often two or more animals mixed together, or an animal experimented on and enhanced until it's bloodthirsty and deadly. I can't think of a Games where they didn't have at least one mutt attack on the tributes.

We alternate between jogging and walking for the rest of the afternoon. We don't find the rest of our alliance, and I'm starting to get a bit antsy, as is Jaka. Neither of us will admit it, but we're worried about them; we want to find them, make sure that they're alive. Or we just want the extra comfort. Or the supplies. Perhaps they've found a water source. Maybe they have food. Maybe they have weapons.

Because if they do, then we'll have a much larger chance of surviving if we're with them.

I soon start to get hot. The air is muggy and humid, just as Scarlett had predicted. I take off my jacket and shove it into the backpack. That's better. I'm still sweating, but not at least not buckets like I was before.

It starts to get dark a little while later. I sigh. We still haven't found them, and we'll have to stop soon. Climb a tree, snuggle up under the blanket, and perhaps tie ourselves in with the rope.

The trees at least are good for cover. Tall, with thick trunks and branches, with large leaves covering almost every inch; if we go up high enough, no one from the ground will be able to see us.

I don't recognise them, though, and that surprises me, as I'd thought that, being from District 7, I'd know every type of tree there is. It seems that that is not the case. Or maybe these trees are just as much of a mutt as tracker jackers are. That's probably it. Trees taken into the lab and experimented on until they come up with this.

Only when I'm nestled high up in the branches of a particularly thick tree, leaning against the trunk, with Jaka curled up next to me do I realise that I'm starving. My stomach gives a loud grumble. I hear Jaka's do the same.

He watches me as I take the precious beef jerky out of the bag. Six pieces. Between us we'll have three pieces each. And they aren't very big. I hope we find Vera and Ariadne and Vera's partner soon.

If they're all still alive. I guess we'll see tonight, when the faces of the dead are projected up into the sky. No more cannons have boomed, so it'll only be the seven shown tonight.

I can't help hoping that Jared is still alive. He probably is. He's a Career, from District 2 no less. District 2 isn't really renound for producing bloodbath tributes.

But still, I worry. Because I've grown attached to him, just as he has apparently grown attached to me. Why, I still don't know. It wasn't exactly a clever move on his part. Getting attached to him wasn't really a good move on my part, either. Because if he wins, then I will have to die. And if I or Jaka wins, then Jared will have to die. And getting attached to people who are guaranteed to die within a few days isn't exactly smart. Especially if you're in it to win it, or, in my case, in it to save your brother. He'll probably kill me if it comes down to it.

"Who would?" Jaka asks softly, looking up at me.

I stare at him. "What?"

"You said, 'He'll probably kill me if it comes down to it.' Who were you talking about?"

I curse. This speaking my thoughts aloud thing without me realising it is beginning to be a problem.

"It doesn't matter," I murmur. "Eat your jerky." He's eating it slowly; it's half-eaten. Probably a clever idea. Cleverer than my move of gobbling it down. My hunger hasn't been satiated by it one bit. The only thing it's done is made me thirstier.

I swallow down my thirst and turn my head, leaning it against the trunk and staring out at the treetops through the small gap in the leaves. It's like a little cubbyhouse in here; the leaves are so thick they're like solid walls. If we had sufficient supplies, we could probably stay in this tree the entire Games and no one would find us but the Gamemakers.

By the time the death toll starts, the anthem of Panem sounding across the arena, Jaka has fallen asleep, but I'm too keyed up to sleep. I suspect I know why that is, especially when the first face shows in the sky and I immediately relax.

It's the girl from 3, the one who had been on my other side at the Cornucopia, the one who had been shaking so badly I could see it from my plate.

She was from District 3. That means that all those from 1 and 2 are alive. That means that Jared is alive.

The next one to show their face is the boy from 5, Vera's district partner. I still don't know his name, and I'm relieved. It would've been ten times worse if I'd actually known him.

But the faces going from District 3 to 5 means that the two from 4 are alive as well. Telia and Taylor. All six Careers are alive. I don't know about Decimus; I don't know if he's even still with the Careers, thanks to his seven in training. They're probably not too impressed with him. But, alive or dead, he's still a threat. He didn't look like the type to show any mercy when it comes to killing.

The girl from 6 is up next. Even her picture up in the sky looks terrified. But Vera's alive. Separated from us, with a dead district partner, but alive.

Both from 9 are up in the sky. Calista, the girl's name springs to my mind. I don't know where that came from. I guess it's just something that I remembered from the reaping. But that means that both Ariadne and Decimus are still alive. I breathe a sigh of relief. We can still find them.

The girl from 10's face is up in the sky next, followed by the girl from 11, and then the picture fades and the sky goes dark again.

Jared's alive. Vera's alive. Ariadne's alive. Vera's nameless district partner is dead. All the other Careers are still alive, too.

Seven down. Seventeen left to play.

I all of a sudden notice the chill, and my jacket is still in my backpack. As is the blanket. Shivering, I open up the backpack and hurriedly pull my jacket on. My shivering eases. I'm still cold, but at least I'm not freezing anymore.

I pull out the blanket next. I tuck it around Jaka's sleeping form before carefully tying him into the tree with the rope, making sure not to wake him. If he wakes then he'll insist that I be tied in too and have the blanket.

But there's not enough rope, or blanket, for that. And I care about him more than I care about me. I can cope.

The last thing I see before I close my eyes and sink into unconsciousness is his face, peaceful and relaxed in sleep.


	14. Chapter 14: The Alliance

Chapter 14 – The Alliance

I'm woken by the sound of the cannon.

I jerk upright and almost fall out of the tree, only managing to stay up there by grabbing onto a branch at the last minute.

As I sit there, wide-eyed and precariously balanced, my heartbeat starts to slow and my breathing starts to even as I realise that we're still alone. The tribute that is now dead didn't die anywhere near us. I slowly relax, shifting until I'm as comfortable as I can be on a hard tree branch.

But I can't sleep for the rest of the night. I sit with one hand on the trunk, sitting sideways and my legs swinging beneath the branch. I stare into the thick wall of leaves, occasionally broken by a thin sliver of moonlight. It's beautiful. I never thought that I'd think that while in the Hunger Games arena.

Jaka starts to stir as it starts to get light. I turn and look at him. He's frowning, all the peacefulness from sleep gone. I sigh, before looking back at the leaves.

"Genesis?" he says, groggily, a few minutes later. I turn and look at him again. "What time is it?"

I smile slightly. "Early," I say, "we'll get going in half an hour or so."

"What's for breakfast?"

My small smile fades. "I'm afraid we have to ration what we have, Jaka," I say softly. "We'll have something for lunch."

His face takes on a disappointed expression and I look away from him to avoid having to see it. I hate seeing that look of disappointment on my little brother's face, especially when it's my fault that I can't provide for him.

Sighing, he tries to sit up and then realises that he can't, thanks to the rope tying him in.

"Gen?" he asks. "What's this?"

"I tied you in so you wouldn't fall," I say.

"What about you?"

"I'm part squirrel, Jaka. I don't need no rope."

I don't need to look at him to know that he's raised his eyebrow in a disbelieving expression.

"Whatever," he says, "we can cut it in half, tonight –"

"No, Jaka," I say firmly. "It's too short. It wouldn't fit around us if we cut it in half, let alone these thick branches. If I didn't fall out last night then I'm not going to fall out tonight, or any other night for that matter."

He starts to argue but I put up a hand and he falls quiet. He knows that when I do that, I've had enough and I'm not going to argue with him anymore. He also knows how stubborn I am. I'm not budging on this, especially since it concerns him and his safety.

He groans a couple of minutes later when he's finally managed to untie himself. "Genesis, didn't you have _anything_ for warmth last night?" he asks.

"My jacket," I shrug.

"You take the blanket tonight," he says firmly, but I shake my head.

"I'm the boss here. I make the decisions. And I say that you take the blanket," I say.

"Who says that you're the boss?"

I turn and look at him. My emotionless gaze turns into a stubborn glare. "Me," I say. My tone and my expression allows no argument and he wisely falls silent.

"So, Boss," he says cheekily a few minutes later, and I throw him a weary look, but he ignores it. "Are we going to move today, or stay up here like acorns?"

"Acorns?" I say questioningly before shaking my head and dismissing it. "Like I said before. We're moving. We have to find Vera and Ariadne."

"So they're alive?" I nod. "Wait…I missed the death toll last night. Who's dead?"

I frown, struggling to recall the faces that were shown in the sky last night. "The…girl from…3," I say, "Vera's district partner. The girl from 6. Both from 10…oh, no, both from 9, just the girl from 10. And the girl from 11."

"All the Careers are still alive," he muses, staring at his hands, before he looks up and gives me a cheeky grin. "So _Jared_ is still alive then?"

I give him a withering look. "Yes, he is still alive," I say through gritted teeth, before quickly stuffing the rope and blanket in the backpack and slinging it over my shoulders. "Now let's go," I say brusquely. "We've got an alliance to find." I swing down off the branch, easily landing on another one a couple of metres down. I swing down from that, catching myself by my hands on a thinner branch, and then jumping to the ground a few metres below, bending into a crouch to ease my fall.

I look up at Jaka. I can see his sun browned face, several metres above, peering down at me in disbelief. I beckon for him to come down.

He does so, but takes a lot longer than I did. Whereas I was on the ground within a few seconds, it's a good few minutes later that he's standing beside me.

My arms folded against my chest, I look at him with raised eyebrows. "I think we know who's won the tree-climbing competition," I say.

He grumbles, brushing off twigs and dirt from his clothes. "Shut up," he says, and I give him a sweet smile before plucking a twig from his hair that he'd missed.

I flick it off into the forest. "Missed one," I say.

He rolls his eyes. "C'mon," he mutters, and starts walking off.

"That's the direction leading back to the Cornucopia," I say, "Surely you want to find Vera and Ariadne, not the Careers?"

He stops and turns slowly around. He glares at me before heading off in the opposite direction.

"That's what I thought," I say, smirking, before following after him.

* * *

No more cannons have gone off by the time the sun is directly overhead, telling me that it's lunchtime. We also haven't found Vera and Ariadne. I have a massive headache, and that's mainly why I tell Jaka to stop.

We sit down on the ground – there are surprisingly no fallen trees around – and we each take a strip of beef jerky. I eat mine slowly this time, and it stops my stomach from rumbling for now, although I still feel empty and lightheaded, not to mention my headache and dry mouth.

But, when I try to get up half an hour later, I find it almost impossible. I'm boiling hot, my mouth and throat are dry and sticky and my head is pounding. By the way that Jaka is lying on the ground too, I suspect that he's feeling the same. We need water. In this heat, we'll die of dehydration before we can find our alliance.

I manage to turn on my back to look up at the sky. The sun is blinding, even through the thick canopy of trees and the tall grass I'm lying in. I've just had a spark of inspiration. Maybe Johanna can send me some water.

"Johanna," I say, but my voice comes out as a dry croak, barely more than a whisper. I clear my throat and try again. "Johanna." Still no response. I close my eyes, my breathing laboured. I know now that stopping was a mistake. If I don't get water soon, I'll never be able to get up again, and neither will Jaka.

I open my eyes when a few seconds later I hear the beeping of a parachute. I sit up as the parachute falls perfectly into my lap. I open it, and my face breaks into a grin as I see what she's sent me.

Water.

"Jaka," I say, "she's sent us water!"

He opens his eyes and looks at me. When he sees me screwing off the lid, he sits up.

It's only a small bottle. Only about one litre. But it's so much better than nothing.

I force myself, and then Jaka, to only drink the water slowly, and to only take a little bit. If she was reluctant the first time, then I doubt that Johanna will send me water again. Maybe she's saving up for something. Hopefully an axe. Or just any weapon. Even a small knife would be better than what we have: nothing.

_BOOM!_

I jump, sloshing a little bit of water out of the bottle. I curse and hurriedly screw the lid back on. I can't afford to lose any water.

"Who do you think that was?" Jaka asks.

I shrug, preoccupied on screwing the lid on tight and stowing the bottle carefully in the front pocket with the beef jerky.

"A cannon fired last night, while you were asleep," I say, "I don't know who it was. It was after the death toll."

"Probably one of the Careers finding a victim," he mutters.

I shudder. He's probably right. I dread to think of what the vicious pack of killers would have done to any victim that they found.

That thought spurs me into action. Rejuvenated by the water, I sling my backpack over my shoulders and stand up.

"Come on, Jaka. Break's over. It's time –" I'm cut off by a startled shriek that I realise came from me as all of a sudden something wraps around my ankle and I'm lifted upside down.

"Genesis!" Jaka exclaims, jumping up and running over to me.

"Jaka!" I shriek. "Get me down!"

"I can't!" he exclaims.

"Well then I'm gonna be tribute meat!" I say shrilly. "Find a way!"

He stares at my upside-down face, which is steadily going red as all the blood rushes to my head, and then a grin spreads across his face and he starts laughing.

"Stop laughing!" I say. "Jaka! Stop it! Shut up! If you don't get me down a tribute is going to come and check his snares and see that he's caught a tribute!"

"I'm sorry," he says, wiping from his eyes tears of mirth. "It's just so funny! You've – you've been – _ensnared!_"

I glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Yes, very funny," I scowl. "Now will you _please_ get me down?"

He eventually calms down and assumes a thinking expression as he inspects the trap.

"I don't know traps and snares," he says, "the best I can think of to release you is to cut the vine. But I don't have a knife."

"Find a way!" I hiss. "Use your nails! Teeth! Just get me down from here!"

"I can't reach," he says.

I scoff and then roll my eyes. "Fine. If you want to leave your sister to be hacked up by another tribute then fine. I just hope Leonides isn't watching."

He opens his mouth to reply, but the voice that I hear isn't that of my brother. It's male, and one I don't recognise.

"District 7?"

I can't see who it is. They're behind me. But Jaka obviously can, as an angry glare comes onto his face and he assumes a defensive stance.

"District 3?" he asks warily.

District 3? Oh…it must be the boy. He's still alive. One of the cannons earlier obviously didn't signify his death.

"Yeah," the boy says. I hear footsteps and then I see the pale, scrawny, glasses-wearing boy from District 3 walk around into my line of vision. Jaka backs up a little. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he says, and I hear the thud as he drops whatever weapon he had in the hand that I can't see. He sticks out a hand. "Octavian," he says. "I'm with Ariadne and Vera."

Relief washes over Jaka's face. "Jaka," he says as he takes Octavian's hand.

"Vera? Ariadne?" I ask and the boy, Octavian, turns to me and nods. "Where are they?"

"About half a kilometre from here," he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Ariadne set up these traps and sent me to go and check on them."

"Okay…well, it would be useful if you could get me down," I snap.

Octavian bends down to reach the knife but Jaka slaps his hand away and takes up the knife himself. Octavian gives him a confused look.

"I don't trust you, District 3," he growls. "I'm not letting you go anywhere near my sister with a knife."

I smile a little at his overprotectiveness.

Jaka is able to cut the vine by jumping up and slashing at it. It takes him a few tries but he eventually gets it. I only realise what's going to happen just before it happens.

I crash to the ground, head first, and I curl up into a ball with my hands over my head to try and minimise the chances of hitting my head.

Groaning in pain, I sit up and rub my head. Jaka is laughing. I look up at him and glare at him.

"Wipe that smile off your face, shorty," I snap, standing up and brushing invisible dust off my clothes. I turn and look at Octavian. "Well, lead the way," I say, picking up my backpack from where it fell when I was hoisted into the air.

Jaka is still snickering as Octavian leads us from the clearing and into the thick trees.

I notice the grass getting steadily taller and thicker as Octavian leads us on. It's now up to my thighs and I'm beginning to get a bit concerned. Who knows what lurks beneath it?

It's not long before my ears pick up on quiet, hushed whispering. My heartbeat speeds up and I look around warily. I know that it's just Vera and Ariadne, but that doesn't stop me from being on my guard. This is the Hunger Games after all.

Octavian stops underneath a large tree, not unlike the one Jaka and I had rested in last night, and tells us that this is their camp before clumsily scrambling up the tree. He's slower than Jaka, but I don't comment, just wait for him to disappear before standing back and letting Jaka climb up. There's no way I'm letting him stay down here for any longer, long grass and solitude be damned.

It's another couple of minutes before I clamber up the tree, quickly getting out of sight of anyone on the ground before looking up. Several metres up I can see a bright red backpack. That and the sound of muted conversation is the only sign that there are tributes up there. The dark clothes and the thick branches and leaves are good for camouflage.

I quickly scale my way up to them, perching on a branch about a metre away from the one that Vera and Ariadne are sitting on. Jaka is leaning against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed, on a branch just below mine and Octavian is about a metre above us on Vera and Ariadne's side.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"Thank goodness you're finally here," Vera responds. "Are you hungry?"

"How much food do you have?" I ask.

"Well, Ariadne got a sponsor gift before; it was two loaves of bread. We ate half of one of the loaves. Between the three of us we got two backpacks from the Cornucopia; in that one –" she points to the red backpack that I'd spotted from below "there's a small loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and a pack of a dozen beef jerkies. In that one –" she points to a light brown one that's sitting on Ariadne's lap "we have a pack of crackers, four apples and three full two-litre water bottles. We did quite well. For supplies we have two ropes, two packs of iodine, two sleeping bags, one empty one-litre water bottle, a box of matches and a sheet of plastic that can be used as a canvas in the case of bad weather."

"And weapons?" I ask tentatively.

"Half a dozen knives. Two big ones and four that can be used for throwing. Octavian also got a spear. What about you; what did you get?"

"Not much," I mutter, "an empty one-litre water bottle, a packet of beef jerky – in which there were only six pieces – a coil of rope, a thin blanket and two boxes of matches, one of which was empty. Johanna sent me a sponsor gift before." I hold up the half-empty bottle of water.

"Only that much?" Ariadne finally speaks. "I'd've thought you would have gotten more, Genesis."

I frown at her. "I was tackled by the girl from 1 as soon as I got off my plate," I say. "Someone threw a knife at her though. It got her in the shoulder. This was all I could get."

"Oh," Ariadne says, "well, have something to eat. Give some to your brother as well."

I don't bother replying. Ariadne wordlessly hands me the half-eaten loaf of bread and I tear it in half, rousing Jaka and giving him the slightly bigger half. He hungrily tears into it. I hand him down the water bottle that Johanna had sent earlier. I force myself to eat the bread slowly and only take minimal sips of the water which Jaka has handed back to me.

I lean against the trunk of the tree, resting one leg across the length of the branch and letting the other dangle below me. I don't hold on with my hands. I'm not afraid of falling. And I've sat in this very position so many times at home that it's almost impossible for me to fall from a lack of balance.

"So how did you find us?" Ariadne eventually asks.

I look at her. "Well," I begin slowly, taking a bite of the bread, "we didn't really find you. I sort of got caught in one of your traps." I smile sheepishly. Ariadne smiles, shaking her head in mock-disappointment. "Jaka was too amused to get me down," I say, "but Octavian found us within a couple of minutes. He got me down and then led us here." I shrug. "Speaking of which…" I lean forward slightly. "I wasn't aware that we had another ally."

Ariadne doesn't answer in words; she instead turns to Vera with a raised eyebrow, willing her to explain.

Vera sighs and looks down at her lap, fidgeting nervously, as if afraid of me. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the case. I did frighten her pretty bad that day in training when I forced her to show me how smart she was at the quizzing station.

"He was caught in one of Ariadne's traps, like you were," she says in a small voice. "He was crying, begging for us not to kill him. And I couldn't. I just didn't have it in me. So I told Ariadne not to and cut him down and let him join us." She shrugs. "He's been nothing but useful so far."

I lean back and look at Ariadne with a raised eyebrow. I didn't think that she'd take orders from someone like Vera. She shrugs and looks away.

I sigh, turning away myself and continuing to nibble on my bread. Johanna was right about the pair from District 5. The boy was a bloodbath. Vera doesn't have it in her to kill. Heck, she'd probably let one of the Careers go free if they were caught in one of the traps.

Thinking of the Careers brings up only one face. I bite my lip, trying to force the image away. I can't afford to think of Jared now. It was different before the Games. Then, we weren't trying to kill each other. And now, we _are_ trying to kill each other.

I didn't believe him when he told me that he couldn't kill me. And I still don't believe him. You never know who's lying and who's telling the truth in these Games.

That thought makes me turn and look at my allies. Ariadne. Vera. Octavian. Jaka.

I scold myself for thinking that Jaka might be lying. He's my brother, for goodness' sake. He wouldn't lie to me.

Or, under the circumstances…would he?

I make a frustrated sound, shaking my head and ridding myself of that thought.

But there's still Vera. And Octavian. And Ariadne.

Ariadne. Johanna had said that I'm either underestimating her or overestimating her. That she's not all that she seems. What had she meant by that? How would Johanna know anything about Ariadne? As I look at the blonde in question, I mentally scoff at the notion that she'd betray us. She's been nothing but loyal and genuine and no one is _that_ good of an actor.

…Or are they?

* * *

**Okay, so just for the record I loved writing that scene about Genesis and Jaka climbing down from the tree and their conversation afterwards, as well as Genesis being caught in the trap and Jaka's reaction. It's nice to see a lighter side of them for once. They're both usually so angsty. Please review! :)**


	15. Chapter 15: Murderer

Chapter 15 – Murderer

When night falls, the others start readying themselves to go to sleep. Ariadne and Vera wriggle into the same sleeping bag and tie themselves in with a length of rope. Octavian takes the other sleeping bag and then asks Jaka if he wants to share; Jaka starts to refuse, saying he'll be fine, but one glare from me makes him hurriedly agree. They settle in together on the branch below me, Jaka tying them in with rope. Taking the thin blanket that I got from the Cornucopia and two knives – one big one and one small throwing one – I quickly climb down a few metres until I can see what's going on at ground level and I can keep watch for any mutts or tributes. I pull up the hood of my jacket – my hair would shine like a beacon – and snuggle into the blanket, as I can feel the temperature dropping below freezing. I grip the throwing knife, keeping the bigger one in my belt.

"Genesis!" someone hisses. I look up. "What are you doing?" Ariadne demands.

"Keeping watch," I whisper, looking back at the ground.

I hear rustling of branches and before I know it Ariadne is sitting beside me, snuggled up in two jackets and a knife glinting in her hand.

"What are _you_ doing?" I whisper, so quietly that I myself have to strain to hear it.

"Keeping watch," she replies just as quietly. "My mind won't shut down."

I smile at her, even though I know she can't see it in the darkness. I'm grateful for some company. And with how close we're sitting, her body heat warms me up slightly. I wonder whose jacket she's wearing on top of her own.

"Whose jacket are you wearing?" I ask curiously.

I can hear the smirk in her voice. "Jaka's."

I smile ruefully. Of course. But then my smile turns into a frown. "Will he be warm enough?" I whisper.

"He said he would be. And anyway, his and Octavian's sleeping bag reflects body heat and is thicker than Vera's. He'll be nice and toasty."

I nod. That's good.

A couple of minutes later the anthem sounds, and the death toll starts. Both Ariadne and I look up at the sky, curious to see who died before.

The first face shown is the boy from 6. The second is the boy from 11. I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when I realise that Jared is still alive.

And then I despair. This relief is nothing more than false hope. He will die, at some point. And when he does it will be so much worse thanks to all the false hope that I've built up from every night his face isn't shown in the sky.

* * *

Nothing happens during the night. Ariadne and I had taken it in turns to sleep, only giving each other an hour before we were woken up.

It's when the first rays of dawn are beginning to shine through the canopy that something happens.

Ariadne and I are both awake, having wordlessly decided about half an hour before that there would be no more sleeping. I'm the first one to pick it up; and when I do, I whisper, barely audibly, to Ariadne: "Don't move."

She freezes in place, not even daring to move her eyes. I'm just as frozen at her, staring at what I've seen; or rather, what I've heard.

Giggling.

Quiet whispers, barely audible footsteps, and soft, muffled giggling. It's a tribute, no doubt; more than one, I'd suspect.

I'm proven right when the pair from 12 step into the light.

They're holding hands. The boy is whispering something to the girl; the girl is the one that is giggling. Unmoving, I silently watch them as they walk slowly and then come to a stop almost directly under the tree where Ariadne and I are.

I don't even dare to breathe.

I can hear what they're saying now that they're so close. The girl is giving the boy a simpering smile and saying, "Oh Storm, you make even being in the Hunger Games bearable!" and then, to my complete and utter surprise, she leans forward and starts passionately kissing him.

He wraps his arms around her waist as she snakes hers around his neck. They continue giggling and whispering as they kiss. I'm not even aware of my dropped jaw until I use it to talk quietly to myself. The two from 12 are so wrapped up in their kiss that they probably won't hear us.

"Are they mad?" I mutter.

If we decide to kill them, then they wouldn't even know what had happened until they were already in the glamorous coalmine in the sky.

"We should kill them," Ariadne replies, barely more than a whisper.

I dare to move my head, turning and looking at her incredulously. "We can't," I whisper.

"Why?"

"Because –"

I break off as the two separate from the kiss. They're flushed and smiling. It's like they're on a romantic date in the park, not a violent death match where only one can survive.

"Let's go," the boy, Storm, says, taking the girl's hand and leading her away.

I only realise that I've been holding my breath when I release it as they disappear into the trees.

"Why didn't you let us kill them?" Ariadne snaps. "That would have been two less competitors for us to deal with."

I don't reply. The reason that I didn't want to kill them is because, in those two lovers, I didn't see Storm and his girlfriend. I saw me and Jared. Wrapped up in each other, unsuspecting, in love; I didn't have the heart to kill them, two lovers so wrapped up in each other that they can look past all the death they're surrounded by and see only each other.

I feel like a hypocrite. I'd been disappointed in Vera before when she let Octavian join the alliance instead of killing him. And just then, I had been unable to kill two easy, unsuspecting targets.

Or I could have chosen to let Ariadne do it. She had seemed only too happy to do it. I could've shut my eyes and blocked my ears as Ariadne crept down and killed the two lovers from 12.

But I couldn't let her do it. I just couldn't.

I run a hand through my hair, knocking my hood back off my head as I do so. My ponytail is now quite messy, but I don't care. It's not as if I care about what I look like in the Hunger Games.

"Let's just go," I mutter, and without looking at her I climb back up the tree to where Octavian, Vera and Jaka are just waking up. As I go I can feel her inquisitive gaze burning a hole in my back.

But I don't want to face her. Not about that. Not now. Not ever.

Because seeing those two lovers made me realise something.

I'm in love with Jared Waters.

* * *

Thankfully, Ariadne doesn't mention the incident about the two from 12 for the rest of the day. I'm grateful. I don't feel like bringing it up and talking about it. I can't let them think that I'm weak.

_Weak._ I'm weak. And now the whole of Panem knows it.

The Capitol knows it. They won't be sponsoring me anytime soon. The only way that I could get back sponsors in that area is if I killed someone.

Slowly. Made a show of it. Let the cameras see plenty of gore. Blood on my hands. Blood-soaked clothes. Blood-stained weapons.

That's what they want. But I can't bring myself to give it to them. That's what the Careers are here for. Slow, showy, merciless deaths.

But I am never going to give it to them, sponsors be damned. I can get sponsors in other ways.

There are no deaths the rest of the day. I'm worried; whenever a day goes by with no deaths the audience usually starts to get bored, and when the audience gets bored the Gamemakers intervene. And Gamemaker intervention is never a good thing.

We're not very entertaining, holed up in our tree; we're lounging there the whole day, alternating between eating, dozing off, keeping watch, talking quietly, or just staring blankly off into space.

Most of the time I'm doing the latter.

It's getting dark when I realise that we only have one bottle of water left. And it's half-empty. I look up at Vera, clutching the water bottle in my hand.

"Vera?" I ask. "Where is a water source?"

Vera stares at me in shock. "It can't be empty already," she says.

"It's halfway there."

Her expression turns horrified and she curses colourfully. I raise my eyebrows, surprised at the word coming from her mouth. She smiles sheepishly at my expression.

I sigh, screwing the lid back on the water bottle and stowing it into a backpack. "We'll have to search for a source," I say.

"But we'll never find one!" Vera wails.

"Yes we will," I say. "Come on. We'll go in pairs. Vera, you stay here and guard the supplies. Jaka, we'll go that way –" I point in a random direction "and Ariadne and Octavian, you guys go that way." I point in another direction.

"Who put you I charge?" Ariadne says snootily.

I stare her down. "I did," I say, and then turn away. I give Octavian a throwing knife – Ariadne already has one of the larger knives and a throwing knife – and I take the other large knife and two throwing knives, giving one to Jaka. That leaves Vera with two throwing knives and the spear.

I can sense Ariadne glaring at me as I sort everything out. I secure two two-litre water bottles to my belt and tell Jaka to do the same with the small one. I toss the remaining two one-litres and one two-litre at Octavian and Ariadne, telling them to secure them to their belts. Octavian wastes no time in obeying, but I can almost sense Ariadne's raised eyebrow in my direction.

Obviously she's not that happy with my choice of leader.

Sighing, I turn to her. "Look, Ariadne," I say, "I'm the oldest. I'm the strongest. I'm the leader. So just do what I say and get over it."

"_You're_ the strongest?" she snorts. "I highly doubt it."

I step up to her, eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah?"

She takes a step forward so we're chest-to-chest. I'm pleased that I'm taller than her. She's eye-level with my nose. I've always been tall for my age.

"Guys!" Jaka exclaims, coming between us and pushing us away from each other. "We don't have time to fight. If you're gonna fight anyone, fight the Careers! Not each other! It's called an alliance for a reason!"

Ariadne and I step away from each other. I leer at her before turning away. "C'mon, Jaka," I say, "let's go find us some water."

We quickly climb down the tree and walk away from it.

We walk quietly for a while, our feet barely making any sound in the long grass. It certainly slows us down, but I don't want to slash through it in the fear that we'd create a large path only too easy to follow.

We walk for an hour. It feels like we're going in circles; everything looks the same. Tall, thick trees. Vines. Thigh-height grass. Humid, muggy air.

I'm surprised there aren't lots of little insects buzzing around. But I guess it's an arena thing. Maybe the Gamemakers didn't want insects.

_BOOM!_

I let out a little involuntary shriek as I jump about a foot in the air. Who's dead? Is it Vera? Octavian? Ariadne? One of the Careers? One of the other, unnamed tributes?

"Who was that?" Jaka asks in a whisper.

"I don't know," I say quietly, and then I freeze. I slowly bring a finger to my lips, signifying for Jaka to be quiet.

_What is it?_ he mouths. I don't answer. I can't be sure, but I think I just heard…

_Snap._ I stiffen. A twig just snapped. Someone's coming.

I make a gesture to Jaka; hand flat, palm facing downwards, slowing lowering my hand. I emphasise it by sinking into the grass myself.

Jaka gets the message and sinks into the grass. Now, hopefully to any onlooker, they won't see us. Unless they step on us. Then that would be disastrous.

_Snap._

He really needs to work on his silent tread.

_Thud._

_What is that?_ I wonder.

_Thud._

Is it…

_Thud._

My eyes widen as I realise what's happening. The tribute, whoever he is, is slamming his weapon down onto the ground, blindly cutting the grass until he reaches us.

Jaka is closer to him than I am.

He'll find him. He'll kill him. Unless I do something.

So I do something.

I rise from my crouch, gripping the throwing knife in my right hand and the large knife in my left. I can always switch the large knife to my right hand once I've thrown the throwing knife.

"Oh, look who it is!" Riley Jamison from District 1 crows triumphantly. "Jared's little _girlfriend_. I'm sure he'll be _very _pleased to know that I've found you."

I can do nothing to stop it as Jaka suddenly stands up and stands in front of me protectively.

"If you want to kill her then you'll have to kill me first," he says viciously.

Riley laughs sadistically. "Oh, how cute," he chuckles. "Brotherly-sisterly love. Well, I suppose that I'll just have to kill both of you." He raises his arm to throw the spear that is in his hand.

"No!" I exclaim, and I shove Jaka sideways so that he falls into the grass. I throw the knife in my hand but Riley lazily dodges it and pulls out a short sword.

I switch the large blade in my left hand to my right.

Riley chuckles. "Oh, this will be _too_ easy," he says, and jabs at me.

I duck, and then blindly swing out with my knife. He steps backwards and I miss.

"Ooh, feisty," he says, and swipes the blade at me. I duck again but at the last second he changes direction so that the sword cuts into my shoulder.

Red-hot pain sweeps through my body as he cuts down deep. He smirks as he yanks it out, causing me to scream again.

"I don't even know how you got that ten in training," he laughs, "You're pathetic."

It's exactly what Lorelei said to me at the bloodbath as she tackled me, her hands around my throat as she tried to cut off my airflow.

I clutch my arm, which has blood flowing freely down it. Riley's laughing, leaning against a tree with his arms folded across his chest, not even bothering to fight me anymore.

My injury is only a shoulder wound. I can still kill him.

Clutching the knife in my blood-soaked arm, I charge at Riley and he barely even has time to register what's happening before the blade has sunk into his chest up to the hilt.

His mouth slowly opens and his eyes widen in shock as he drops his weapon. He stumbles off to the side, falling to the ground.

He crushes the tall grass beneath his body as he stares up at me in shock.

"You," he gasps. "You…" he swallows thickly. "How…how did…could…" he doesn't get any more words out as his heart finally stops beating and his movement stills.

_BOOM!_

The cannon. He's dead. I killed him. I'm a murderer. I've killed someone. Taken away their life, their soul.

I don't deserve to live anymore.

"Genesis!" Jaka calls out as I start to flee the scene, barely even feeling the pain in my shoulder anymore. It's gone numb.

_I killed him. I killed him. I killed him._

I have someone else's blood on my hands. I hadn't even given it a thought as I'd mercilessly plunged my blade into his chest. I'd murdered someone who was barely more than a child.

_I killed him. I killed him. I killed him._

It's like a mantra inside my head. I've taken a life. Spilled their blood. Stolen their soul.

_I killed him. I killed him. I killed him._

Riley would've had a family back home. Friends. Maybe even a girlfriend. They'll all hate me now. And I can understand. I hate me too. Riley may have been a sadistic, inhumane murderer who enjoyed killing, but he was still a person. Someone that had a life. A story. To me he may have just been another face in the crowd, but to others he may have been the main face in their life.

And I've just taken that away from them.

I eventually collapse, falling against a fallen tree trunk.

The pain comes back. I bite down on my jacket, trying not to scream out.

All I have are some empty water bottles. No food. No weapons. No medical supplies.

No Jaka.

_Jaka._ I left him. Alone. He's a target. He doesn't have me to protect him.

If Riley was in the area, then I wouldn't be surprised if others are as well.

I try to stand up, but the pain in my shoulder comes back full force and I can't stop myself from crying out as it sends spasms of pain all throughout my body.

It's only when I taste the salt that I realise I'm crying.

The Capitolites are probably having a field day with this. Girl kills Career. Girl runs away from her brother. Girl starts slowly going insane.

Because I'm as sure about the last one as I am that the sky is blue and grass is green.

And blood is red.

I need something to treat this, fast, but I'm not sure I'd be able to anyway, in my state of mind. I'm shaking so badly that I'd no sooner be able to stitch up my wound than have access to a hospital in the Capitol.

It's with this depressing thought that I black out.


	16. Chapter 16: Lost and Found

**Dear Guest reviewer: Sorry I can't reply to you in PM, so I'll just reply to you here. Thanks for your review, I'm so glad that you like the story. Thanks for your advice as well; I've tried not to make this story too much like the original Hunger Games. Thanks for pointing that out though. :)**

Chapter 16 – Lost and Found

When I wake I find that I am still in the same position as before, leaning almost drunkenly against the log. I yawn, momentarily forgetting everything that happened yesterday.

"Jaka?" I say groggily.

When no one answers I look up. "Jaka?"

Where am I? What happened? Where's –

"Ack!" I hiss as I try to move and all of a sudden my shoulder feels like it's on fire.

_Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Beep, beep._

I look up, squinting, as a parachute floats down towards me. I watch it as it comes to a rest a few centimetres to my left.

Cradling my bloody arm in my lap, I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood to try and avoid crying out in pain. I've never felt this amount of pain. Not even the time that I was seven and Jocelyn was nine and we had decided that jumping off the roof of her house would be a great idea. I'd shattered my arm in several places and had had to walk around in a sling for a very long time.

But this is far worse than a broken arm. This is a shoulder with a bone-deep wound, and I only have myself and whatever is in that parachute to stitch it up.

I also have no idea how much blood I have lost.

It takes me a couple minutes to open up the parachute one-handed. But when I do, I despair, as I'm not professional on medical things. I have no idea how to do this properly.

I stare down at the little teal-coloured round container with the Capitol seal on the lid. A couple of pristine white bandages are nestled in beside it, with a needle and thread next to it.

I gulp nervously. How am I to do this? What is in the little container? Is it some kind of salve? I'm not a doctor. And I only have one hand. My weak hand, that is. And I still have to be on my guard. Tributes or mutts or some kind of 'natural' disaster could come calling and I wouldn't be able to do anything but hope for a quick death.

But as another spasm of pain shoots down my arm, I grit my teeth, because I know that I'll just have to do it. Doing a shoddy job is better than doing nothing at all, at least in my experience.

Slowly I reach for the container. I unscrew it and take a whiff of the stuff inside. My nose wrinkles at the disgusting smell.

"What are you?" I murmur, turning it this way and that, before I snort. First I hear my late best friend's voice in my head. And now I'm talking to inanimate objects.

I really am going crazy.

_What do you do to a wound before you bandage it?_ I question myself. I know that I just can't straight-up bandage it. The wound could get infected, and the blood would stick to the bandage, making it absolute agony to take off. I'd experienced that before, and I most certainly did not want to have to go through it again.

_Infected._ And how does it get infected? _If it's not clean._

Will this little paste clean the wound?

I sure hope so. Because if it doesn't, then I'm screwed. Big time.

Taking a deep breath, I set the container down and then take off my jacket. With only the tank top on, I can clearly see the wound.

It's disgusting. A gaping hole that's oozing blood. It smells, too. I almost vomit at the sight of it.

Swallowing down my bile, I smear some of the paste on my fingers and then spread it as best as I can over the wound.

I still have no idea if this is what I'm supposed to do. I really should've spent more time learning how to stitch up wounds in training. Because I could lose an arm if I don't do this right.

And losing an arm in the Hunger Games would be very, very bad.

I grit my teeth and clench my jaw to stop myself from crying out in pain. That would only attract tributes, and that is the last thing I need.

Unless that tribute was Jaka. Or Vera. Or Ariadne. Or Octavian.

If they're all still alive.

Shaking my head to rid myself of that thought, I continue slathering the paste on thick. I stare at the wound as I can physically see the paste working. It's cool, and soothing, and the pain isn't so bad now. I sigh in relief. Maybe I actually did something right for once.

I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to stitch it up next. But how? I only have my left hand. And I'm not sure if I'll have the willpower to do it.

I bite my lip, staring at the ground.

Deep breaths, Genesis. Deep breaths. You can do this. It's just some embroidery. You're just stitching up the T-shirt that Leonides has ripped while playing soccer with his friends. It's not a wound. It's just a T-shirt. Just do it. You can do it.

I close my eyes briefly before opening them with a renewed determination. I pick up the needle and thread before I can change my mind. I make a tiny knot in the thread and then loop it through the needle.

I'll need to hold the lips of the wound together. I can do that. Just move your arm, Genesis, just move your arm…

I can't help the involuntary hiss of pain that escapes as I move my right arm upwards and pinch the lips of the wound together. I feel sick. I might just throw up. But this needs to be done.

I take another deep breath, almost gagging on the rank smell of the wound, before plunging the needle into my skin.

I need something to bite down on other than my tongue. I can feel the metallic taste of blood seeping into my mouth. Disgusted, I spit it out. Holding both the wound together and the needle in my right hand, my left scrabbles for my jacket. Once I find it I stuff one of the sleeves in my mouth to bite down on.

That's better. I can bite my jacket as I stitch myself back together. And bite my jacket I do.

I've eventually got the wound all stitched up. With a sigh of relief I tie off the end of the needle. It's all bloody now, as is the thread. Resisting the urge to throw them both into the long grass, never to be seen again, I put them carefully into my pants pocket, tying the thread up in a tight knot so that it doesn't become tangled. Who knows when I might need them again? And I wouldn't want Johanna to waste any more precious sponsor money, especially as things only get more expensive as the Games go on.

I start to tie the bandage around the now-stitched up wound but I'm interrupted by the beeping of a parachute.

Frowning, I look up. The parachute lands in my lap. I open it. Inside it is a small bottle of water. I frown. Yes I'm thirsty, but I'm not dying from thirst. Yet.

I unscrew the lid and cautiously take a sip before spitting it back out again. It's soapy. Warm and soapy. Why on earth would Johanna send me warm soapy –?

Oh.

Looking at the wound, I can see why she would send me soapy water. Blood – my blood – is caked all around the wound and down my arm. It's on my jacket as well. She obviously wants me to clean the blood away.

I unfortunately now have the disgusting taste of soap in my mouth. She's probably either laughing or shaking her head and tutting in frustration at my stupidity right now.

I set to work washing the blood off. The soapy water is pretty effective, and I guess the warmth helps too. It's not long before my arm is clean again.

Looking at my jacket which I'd dropped from my mouth when I'd finished with the needle and thread, I realise that I should probably clean that too. The entire right sleeve is dark with blood and the rest of it is pretty bloody too.

Wow. I never knew that wounds bled so much.

_Of course,_ I think as I start scrubbing the jacket, _I don't know much about wounds. My blood could turn bright green and I'd think it would just be normal._

My jacket is a bit harder to clean than my arm, but it's soon blood-free as well, but the water bottle is empty as well. I bandage my shoulder carefully before sitting back against the log, sighing, hoping that that's what she meant me to use the soapy water for, when I remember something.

Jaka.

How could I have forgotten him? I suddenly have the urge to cry. I just left him before. And he didn't come after me. He's unprotected, _I'm_ unprotected.

_This is quite possibly the worst day in my life,_ I think miserably as my shoulder starts to throb and I become aware of a dry stickiness in my throat and mouth and a pounding headache. _And it's not even noon yet._

As if just to add to my miseries, my stomach growls loudly.

Well damn. If I don't die from tributes, mutts, Gamemaker disasters, my poor medical skills or dehydration, I'll die from hunger.

I suppose it is called the Hunger Games for a reason.

* * *

As the day wears on and nothing happens, I begin to worry. Nothing's happened today. It's been pretty boring. And everyone knows that when things get boring, the Gamemakers decide to intervene.

And that's never a good thing for the tributes.

I've tried to move, but I can't. I find it difficult to even keep my eyes open. I'm growing weaker and weaker by the minute from lack of food and water. I was hoping that with stitching up the wound, I'd regain some energy. I was wrong.

I can't even move an inch.

I've been wondering about Jaka, and the others, all day. I was unconscious for the death toll last night, so I didn't get to see who'd died about half an hour before I'd killed Riley.

That had been playing on my mind too. The murder. Had that really only been yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago.

I'm a bit calmer today. I'm not hyperventilating anymore. More just…brooding. Overthinking things.

I try to sigh but the small, almost inaudible sound I make sets my head pounding and I mentally grimace in pain, as it's too much of a chore to do it physically.

But it's nothing compared to the sound I hear next.

_Crunch._

My breath hitches in fear. Someone's close. Someone's coming. Someone's going to see me. Someone's going to kill me.

I'm going to die.

_Crunch._

Who is it? Is it Jaka? Is it Jared? Is it a tribute I don't know? Is it another Career? Regardless of who they are, I know that their face is going to be the last one I see.

_Crunch._

Unless I close my eyes. So I do. I don't want to see the face of my murderer.

_Crunch._

I squeeze my eyes shut using all the strength I have. I refuse to see the face of who is going to murder me.

But instead of a blade sinking into my chest, I hear a voice. A high, girlish, familiar and very welcomed voice.

"Genesis?"

My eyes fly open. It's Vera!

"Vera," I try to say in relief, but my voice comes out as a dry croak, barely even able to form the sound of her name.

"You're alive," she says in relief.

"Yes," I try to say, but again my voice comes out as such a quiet croak that I can barely hear myself.

"You need water," she realises, and she takes a water bottle off her belt and unscrews the lid.

She crouches down beside me and holds it to my lips, tilting it so that I can drink it.

I start to greedily gulp it down, but she takes it away, shaking her head.

"Slowly," she says, as if reprimanding a small child.

I don't have the strength to nod so I just stare at her, blinking, hoping that she realises that I understand.

Eventually she lifts it back to my lips and, not wanting it to be taken away again, I drink it slowly, although it takes a massive amount of self-control.

"Do you need food?" she asks once I've drunk my fill, which happens to be the whole water bottle. I can't even gather enough coherent thought to wonder where she got all that water from, because last time I checked, we only had half a bottle left.

"Yes," I manage. My voice is no longer a dry croak with no sound; it's more of a quiet, raspy whisper.

"Here." She hands me an apple. I stare at it. It looks difficult to eat.

Vera frowns before she gets an idea. She takes the apple back and places it on the grassy ground before taking a knife from her belt.

My eyes widen and I try to move away, thinking that she's going to cut me, but she doesn't notice and simply cuts the apple into pieces.

She stows the knife away before holding up the fruit. It looks soft, and juicy, and welcoming.

I hungrily dig into it.

I've eaten all eight pieces within about a minute, but it's not nearly enough to satiate my hunger. Vera must sense this, as she pulls out a piece of bread with a slice of cheese on it. I smile. It looks delicious.

"Eat it slower," she reproves, and I smile sheepishly before forcing myself to take slow bites of the bread and cheese.

The bread is slightly stale, and the cheese is dry, but it tastes like heaven to me. I can't even remember the last time I had food, even though I'm sure I probably had some yesterday. I can't quite remember. Everything that happened yesterday is a bit of a haze.

When I finish I look back at her. She's staring at my shoulder. Biting my lip, I follow her gaze. I see in relief that the bandage is still clean; not bloodstained like I feared it might be.

"What happened?" she asks softly. "Jaka didn't tell us."

My foggy mind snaps into focus at the mention of Jaka's name. "Jaka? Is he alright? Is he alive? Who died before? What's happened?" I fire the questions at the girl without giving her a chance to answer them. I hope that this will distract her enough to not ask what had happened.

"Calm down," she says reassuringly. "Jaka's fine. He's alive. Distressed, but fine."

"Who died?" I ask.

Vera bites her lip and looks away, and suddenly I get a dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach, although I can't imagine why. She wouldn't know about Jared…would she?

"Octavian," she says softly, and I can't help the selfish relief that floods through my body. Jared's alive. He's safe. Well, I'm not sure how safe he is exactly, but he's doubtless safer with one less tribute around.

"Oh," I say, and we fall into an awkward silence.

Jared may be alive, but Octavian's dead. A fellow ally member is dead. He may have been just an extra, a burden, but he was still a person.

Just like Riley – just like everyone – he has people in what used to be his life that will miss him.

People that will blame his killer.

"Who killed him?" I ask.

"The Gamemakers," Vera says grimly. "When him and Ariadne went off to look for a water source at the same time that you and Jaka left, they found one, but apparently he fell into a mud pit and sank. Ariadne couldn't pull him out."

"Mud pit?" I ask, confused.

"All over the arena," she says grimly, "wherever the grass is shorter than your knees there's the risk of a mud pit. There are heaps of them at the Cornucopia. They're like quicksand apparently; once you're in you can't get out."

I shudder. That must have been such a terrible death for Octavian; and Ariadne, unable to pull him out…the guilt she must have felt…

"Where are they?" I ask.

"Just a couple minutes from here," Vera says. "Can you walk?"

I shrug. I honestly don't know.

"Let me try," I say. With the help of Vera and the log, I manage to stand up. I sway a little, but after a few minutes I can stand on my own. "Wow," I chuckle as I finally manage to stand steadily after Vera has moved away. "I never knew that I was so weak."

"You haven't eaten or drank in a while, Genesis. You're depressed and you probably lost a lot of blood."

I shrug. She's probably right.

I find that as I keep walking it's not actually that difficult. One foot in front of the other; my energy seems to have been restored.

I can almost think that it's no longer the Hunger Games. The marshy forest around me is silent apart from the sounds of nature. Leaves rustling. Branches swaying. Birds chirping. Animals scuffling around.

I'm quite surprised that no one had found me before Vera. I hadn't exactly made an effort to conceal myself. I hadn't even heard or sensed anyone coming.

I'd been truly alone.

Vera leads me to a large tree which seems to have been hollowed out by some Gamemaker machine. The entryway is small, barely higher and wider than my waist, and I have to drop down to my knees to squeeze through after Vera. The entryway is concealed by the long grass, just below waist-length in this part; if you didn't know what you were looking for then you'd never find it.

There's a dark shape curled up inside the tree. After my eyes adjust I can make out Jaka and Ariadne, cuddling together as they sleep. Normally I'd think that it's rather cute, but I feel nothing but unease as I see them so close together.

The little tree-room is no more than three metres in diameter each way. It's rather squished.

I lean against the wall of the trunk and close my eyes. All of a sudden I'm exhausted.

"Vera?" I ask quietly without opening my eyes.

"Hmm?" she says.

"Can you wake me when Jaka wakes up?"

"No need." She smiles.

I open my eyes and turn towards Jaka and Ariadne. The latter is still fast asleep, but my brother is stretching and his eyelids are fluttering.

A few moments later his eyes open. They take a while to focus. He yawns hugely before rubbing his eyes.

"Vera?" he asks groggily. "You're back?"

"Oh go and greet her," Vera grins.

Jaka stares at her, confused, until I clear my throat. His gaze slowly turns to me and as soon as he sees me his face lights up.

"Geni!" he exclaims, leaping up and knocking me sideways with the force of his hug. "You're alive!"

"So are you, little brother," I grin. "I guess the world just can't get enough of us."

He doesn't reply, simply leaning his head on my shoulder – my injured shoulder.

I can't help the hiss of pain that escapes as he does so. He pulls away, frowning.

"Gen?" he asks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Let me see."

"No, Jaka. It's all bandaged up anyway."

"I don't care. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

As he gently pushes my jacket away from my shoulder I try to stop him but he slaps my hand away.

He sighs when he sees the crudely-wrapped bandage. "What am I going to do with you, Genesis?" he asks rhetorically.

I chuckle. "That's not the right question."

He frowns. "Then what is the right question?"

"What am I going to do with _you,_ little brother?"


End file.
